#source: i watch way too many damn movies

[deanpinterester]

i have this unfounded theory that a lot of media is so consumed with trying to one-up each other and be different that they forget that simplicity is often just as effective of a tool in telling a compelling and cohesive story

[kuwdora]

Saturday Morning Vid Recs - Women!

Back in January I told @poetikat that I wanted to share just a fraction of vids I’ve seen since I started vidding in 2007 that I love. Taken me forever to format the links into a post to share. I have several more posts half-finished and may show up on your dashboard in following weeks or months.

I'm reccing vids that are at least 1 year old, but most of these vids are 4 and 8 and 12 years old and sometimes older. These vids feature a variety of sources, characters, genres of music, genres of shows. Each of these vidders have their own style and the way they approach a song or a source. I love these vids, they're fun to watch, they're hot, mesmerizing, engaging, thoughtful, full of love and horniness and BAMFs and joy and struggle. I love. I love.

I give to you 23 vids for this weekend's theme:

Women!!

Learning to Fly by rhoboat. Beautiful Boxer (2004). A movie vid based on trans Thai boxer Nong Toom’s life. This song is so good showing her journey to learning to find herself and fly! Ako Te Reo by bironic. Rūrangi (2020). Ana learning Te Reo Māori. This vid is so wonderful! It's never too late to learn. Come on Feet by JinkyO. Pumzi (2009). The song choice and pacing is incredible for this Kenyan sci-fi film. Something has to keep us moving forward. Black Nails by fightingarrival. A League of their Own (2022). A Max vid that is a great look at her journey on the show. This vid makes me want to rewatch all her scenes all over again. Here, take this L. Damned if She Do by chaila. Borgen. This source is the Danish political drama Borgen. Birgette is so kick-ass and this song is perfect for her. She come alive when she dying. "Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power." Strict Machine by such_heights. Doctor Who. River Song. I’m in love with River Song so of course I have to rec this. I get high on a buzz then a rush when I'm plugged in you. Counting Stars by beccatoria. DC Animated Wonder Woman. Beccatoria has always done such a great job of vidding animated source and WOMEN!!!! Superstar by @heresluck. Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A Faith vid. This (one of many) epic Faith vids to come out of vidding fandom over the years. This vid lives rent free in my head. But I would pay this vid to live in my head because I love it so much. Never gonna be the same again.

Down & Dirty by @sweeter-than. Killjoys. A Dutch fanvid! A++ song choice for a character study showing her relationship with the Jacobi brothers and her general awesomeness. Make way. Cut Like a Buffalo by kiki_miserychic. Empire. Cookie Lyon fanvid! Cookie has all the skin in the game and she is so good at music, but damn there’s so much bullshit she has to deal with along the way. Yeah, you know I look like a woman but I / Cut like a buffalo / Stand up like a tower, tall / Then I fall just like a domino. Control: A Monstress Fanvid by garrideb. Based on the comic Monstress. You know this Halsey song + any woman who has been Going Through It is going to be a fucking ride. Great editing, amazing art. Fortunate One by @moocowmoocow The Expanse. CAMINA!!! DRUMMER!!!! A Sleater-Kinney cover of Fortunate Son is 10 million kinds of brilliance here for Camina and this source. I ain't no fortunate one. Celebrity Skin by @some-stars. Black Sails. This is an Eleanor and Max character vid. I repeat: Elenor and Max vid to Courtney Love’s music. Heed the warnings. This vid is so goddamn good. It better be worth it. Double Woman by starlady. Detective Dee and the Mystery of the Phantom Flame. So much awesomeness packed into this vid. Through the camera lens re-editing history gives imagination to the people. Wu Zetian and Shangguang Jing'er are awesome. Hooray for awesome ladies of the Tang Dynasty! Titanium by giandujakiss. Wonder Woman (the original tv show). She is titanium! Suffering Sappho.

Mirrors by @kuwdora. Snow White and the Huntsman. Queen/Snow. Lots of fantasy imagery and bdsm like themes since the Queen wants to suck the youth from Snow. Sex. Love. Control. Vanity. Lightning Field by bradcpu, a Legend of the Seeker fanvid of Cara/Kahlan. The imagery in this vid is outstanding, the tone the atmosphere. I have rewatched this more times than I can count. Strike me down, Give it everything you've got. Hands Away by chaila and beccatoria. Sarah Connor Chronicles/Fringe. Sarah/Olivia constructed reality fanvid that is constructed really really fucking well that you might forget that these are two different shows. I can't reach you. (Or, two messiahs walk into an alternate reality) Hurricane by @laurashapiro. Farscape and Battlestar Galactica, Starbuck/Aeryn.This vid is so epic and hot and incredible...Hot and sexy and can’t take your eyes off them. Two pilots walk into a bar. I Wanna Go by millylicious, a multi-source action vid Angelia Jolie tribute. This is fun and delightful. Space Girl by charmax. Multi-source space women and girls! My momma told me I should never watch Sci-fi but I did, I did, I did. Celebration by sweetestrain. Pop divas. Madonna, Rihanna, Lady Gaga, Beyonce, etc. Another one of my favorites of favorites. The connected imagery between all of these music videos still blows my mind, but goes to show you how pop music continues to build and evolve from each other. Plus sexy dancing. If it makes you feel good. Your Song by anoel. Multi-fandom. One of the most epic sapphic/wlw vids out there. I don’t wanna hear sad songs anymore, I only wanna hear love songs.

Hope you like these recs! Follow the tags to keep up #saturday morning vid recs and/or #kuwdora recs

EDITING TO ADD: How to Leave Feedback on Fanvids

[merriclo]

i’m 100% vagueposting here but so many very popular BSD analyses are essentially just huge reaches that can be easily disproven, made due to a deep misunderstanding of the narrative and a lack of genuine respect for the process of analyzing.

i’ve seen entire essays on how Dazai didn’t abuse Akutagawa, and how Akutagawa doesn’t abuse Higuchi. i’ve seen post after post discount the importance of the trust that rests within Double Black. i’ve seen people argue over whether or not Kunikida’s ideals are healthy.

and half the damn time, sources aren’t cited whatsoever: there’s no quotes or manga panels used anywhere!! scenes and moments will be referenced, but without a proper citation there’s so many different ways you can present and misconstrue what actually happened. and with a series like BSD, where so many aren’t able to read the light novels or watch the movie or read the manga, that can change so much.

and then it’ll be revealed that the author only spends like,, 3-4 hours max on the entire process behind one post. the information gathering, the writing, the formatting + aesthetics, and then the posting. if you’ve never gotten deep into analyzing media before, just know that 3-4 hours is a painfully short amount of time to give an analysis.

it boggles my mind, too, because it will be these exact kinds of posts that are written with nothing but contempt for the readers. their words will be laced with pure annoyance and distaste for the audience and general fandom. i’ve even witnessed people publicly insult commenters who praised them, calling them stupid sheep for being hyperbolic in their compliments. it’s cruel, and incredibly mean-spirited.

speaking of which, there’s also a conversation to be had about how bigotry impacts these discussions. several character analyses i’ve seen have been nothing but poorly-masked attempts at discounting popular queer ships, or ignoring the abuse present in heterosexual ones to provide an alternative. but that’s… its own entire can of worms that i’ll crack open at a later date.

tl;dr, think critically, and always for yourself. an analysis shouldn’t be trying to end a conversation, they should always be seen as an addition to them. the author attempting anything else is a major red flag. you should always be trying to find the parts of analyses that you agree and disagree with!! don’t let anyone tell you want to think, that is for you and you alone to decide.

i know this is honestly seems like a non-issue, but media literacy is an incredibly important skill to have in the real world, and it starts with the very media (and commentary of said media) you consume. stay critical chat ily

[tovalhallaandback]

Vores Lille Dukke

Summary: A night at the club on All Hallows Eve turns into frighteningly intimate evening when you run into York’s undead King and Queen who offer an invitation that you��d be stupid to turn down. 

Pairing: Vamp!Sigtyggr x Vamp!Stiorra x Human!AFAB!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), threesome, unprotected sex, p in v sex, oral sex (giving male/female, receiving male/female), lowkey dom/sub vibes (dom Sigtryggr, switch Stiorra, Stiorra is also a bratty sub lol, sub reader), minor rough sex, minor blood kink, minor praise kink, mentions of blood, legal alcohol drinking (but reader still able to consent), possibly more that I'm missing ?

Wordcount: 10.3 (Yeah...i went a little nuts..)

AN: So uh, happy belated halloween?! I have more to say in the AO3 ANs lawl.

Cross-posted on to AO3 since it's so long. Also if you want to skip to the smut, then skip to the bolded part.

There’s a luminescent glow in your favorite club tonight, black lights illuminating only whites and neons while casting everything else into eerie shadows. The bass from the speakers beats so loudly, you feel it in your bones, like a second heartbeat as you lean against the bar nursing a cocktail, watching your friends. You can’t help but laugh as one slaps another party goer across the face while the other seems like they have been starved from human touch for centuries with the way they try to devour their companion. At least, they both seem to be having fun, though you wish they had kept their promise of not abandoning you tonight when they forced you out of your apartment. 

The costumes tonight lack creativity - white bunny costumes as an excuse to where lingerie in public, skeleton body suits like a second skin, angels with far too salacious grins…Though creativity tends to get stifled when there’s only so many white and neon costumes to choose from for a halloween blacklight party. And besides, it’s not like your ingenuity is any better, spotting several other possessed dolls within the throngs of people on the dance floor, even if you had no clue that you’d be coming out tonight until four hours earlier when your friends arrived clad in costume, giddy with excitement as they announced a change in plans from your annual horror movie marathon. And for a last minute costume, you look damn fucking good.  

Sure you would have rather kept to your converse instead of the four-inch strappy stilettos one of your friends insisted you wear knowing far too well that  high heels, cobblestone, and alcohol are a lethal mix, but you’re still quite proud of the rest of your thrown-together costume. It’s a simple assemble - just a white pleated skirt with your favorite white tank top; both of which emphasize your favorite physical attributes in just the right way. Then of course, there’s the black leather jacket and white lace-trimmed thigh highs that add a little bit of edge to your look. But the cherry on top? Your make-up, so detailed and precise that it looks like a professional special-effects make-up artist completed it. So while tonight might not be your usual scene, at least you feel damn fucking confident in the way that you look. 

“What’s your poison?” You just barely hear a voice that can only be described as sounding as sweet and harmonious as Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Snowflakes” say over the blaring music, though still loud enough that your heels pop off the ground for a moment, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched that’s haunted you the last couple of weeks.  At first, you ignore it despite the voice’s alluring nature, like a siren in a storm, beckoning you to find its source. Plus, you’re certain they must be talking to someone else. But then it comes a second time, even louder and clearer, like the person has moved closer to you, “It looks really fucking good.” 

Your eyes flick down to the deep ruby red cocktail in your hands. The stranger’s right; it is fucking delicious, tasting mostly of sweet cherries and pomegranate. It’s one of those drinks that you could easily down five of in a row, completely forgetting there’s alcohol laced between the sweetness.

“I think it was called Dracula’s blood? Or something cheesy like-“ The words get stuck in your throat as you meet the deep dark eyes of the stranger, not quite able to discern their color under the blacklight. The petite lithe female looks like a walking goddess with her pin-straight dark chocolate brown hair falling almost to her waist and skin-tight little black dress that falls just to her mid-thigh. You instinctively swallow, licking your lips as she stares back at you, a sweet but tantalizing smile hanging off her lips.

“Like that,” you say finally, though it comes out almost like a whisper. But, it’s a miracle you were able to even finish you sentence with the way this young women has captured your attention. 

“Would you like another?” she asks as she waves down the bartender. 

All you can do is nod, still awestruck by how perfect her cream colored skin looks under the purple-hued lighting and how the dress she wears draws your gaze to the delicate slope of her breasts, then the curve of her waist. But on the bright side, she seems to hardly notice your blatant ogling (or she’s just used to it). 

Either way, you chastise yourself for such behavior, forcing your mouth that you didn’t even realize fell open closed. And somehow, you manage to remove yourself off the bar, the sleeves of your jacket making a squelching noise as they peel off the tacky ledge covered in God knows what.

As you reach into your pocket for your card, the mysterious female shakes her head, “It’s on me.”  With a gracious grin, you accept the drink from her then bring it your lips, allowing the sweet nectar to flow over your lips one more.

“Fuck that is good,” the young woman says. 

She adds something else, but you hardly register it, now enamored by the way the crimson drink drips off one of her canines (wait have those always been so sharp and pronounced?!) and onto her plush lower lip like she’d just sunk her her teeth into someone’s flesh. Then, you find yourself wishing for chance to taste the beverage on her tongue… And that’s when her costume finally makes sense - the little black dress with sheer black tights, the velvet choker around her neck, the smears of blood in odd places, the overly emphasized canines…she’s a vampire. 

“Great costume,” you splutter out then immediately close your eyes. Fuck?! Great costume?! If she weren’t still standing there, you’d probably be hitting yourself over the head for such a stupid fucking line. 

She smiles at your sweetly, like you’re a cub who thinks they can keep up with the lions. “Thanks,” her eyes do a once over your costume. “Big Child’s Play fan?” 

Your hand seesaws, “Yes and no. Mostly just the ones from the late 90s that are more comedy than horror. Let me guess - True Blood? The Vampire Diaries?” 

“Something like that.” 

Your fingers tap against your thigh as your eyes fall over the crowd again, rattling your brain for something more clever to say to the vixen then talk about your fucking costumes. You spot one friend, now practically fucking their companion on the dance floor as other people grind, jump, and fist-pump to the beat. You’re still scanning the crowd for the other when your eyes meet a different stranger’s gaze. The taller man leans across the far wall, a drink at his lips as he stares back at you and the vixen to your left. You’re certain that someone as devilishly handsome as him has to have his eyes on his clear counterpart, but then her glass clinks against yours as she whispers, “I think someone likes you.” 

But before you can counter her, she’s gone, unable to even locate where she disappeared too. Besides, it only takes two seconds to realize that she’s right as the other stranger’s eyes remain glued to you instead of following wherever the chestnut-haired stranger disappeared too. Heat rushes to your cheeks , and suddenly you’ve never been more thankful to be in a club with backlights. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you finger waggle at the stranger, swearing you see the flash of a smirk as he takes another sip of whatever he’s drinking. 

Maybe if you were three or four drinks deep, you might have enough confidence to waltz over to the new stranger. But you hardly feel the familiar warmth or euphoria pulsing through your veins, still only on your second drink with the first having been nursed for almost an hour. Besides, there’s no fucking chance you’d have a chance with him. Right? 

For God’s sake he looks like fucking Mr. James Dean with the jeans, glowing white t-shirt, and mohawk…? (Really you’re just certain the sides of his head are shaven.)  But either way, he looks like the type of guy who need only wink and panties fall to the floor for him. (And that’s just in shitty lighting from thirty-feet across the room. Up close? He probably looks like a Greek fucking god.) 

Your other friend appears, swiftly dragging you by the hand as they weave through the crowd towards the bathrooms unintentionally saving you from embarrassing yourself a second time this evening. Their iron grip around your wrist disappears once in the sanctity in the bathroom, then your friends turns to face you. “You cool finding your own way home tonight?” 

Your friend glows pink under the neon sign mounted above the sinks reading, ‘Please Don’t Do Coke in the Bathroom’. There’s an odd coziness to the brick-walled bathroom with four onyx stalls and and a double vanity sink, like the owners of the club knew most people retreat to the bathroom for a moment to themselves as just the thrum of the bass beats through the walls now. It’s nice being able to actually hear your own thoughts and not need to shout to be heard. 

“Yeah. After you both promptly abandoned me the minute we got drinks, I figured that would be the case.” 

Your friend wraps you in too tight a hug, then places a gentle kiss on your temple. “We don’t deserve you.” 

“No, you really fucking don’t,” you say with a giggle as the edge of the countertop bites into your hipbones. It’s not the first time they both have pulled this move on you, nor will it be the last. But, you’ve never minded it, just insisted all three of you ensure your location-shares stay on and check-in that you’ve all made it home by lunch the next day. 

You listen intently as your friend rattles off to you all the details they have learned about their prospective companion for the evening, clearly elated by how the night has shaped out. Eventually, you get your chance to tell her about the two strangers who caught your eye, only to quickly deny any plans of leaving with them when your friend wiggles her eyebrows at you. There’s no way in hell you have a chance with either of them. Then with one more giddy hug, they leave you in the bathroom alone. 

The silence is comforting, appreciating how you can finally think straight as you try to decide whether to stay a bit longer or to leave. Plus, the bottle of pedialyte you guzzled in anticipation of the evening has finally made its way through your system. 

You jump in your heels when you reemerge from one of the stalls, having hardly heard the female stranger from earlier enter the bathroom. She sits cross-legged on the grey concrete counter top, the deep cherry red of the soles of her heels flashing at you as she uncrosses her legs, her smile widening, like she’d been waiting on you. She pops off the counter as graceful as a feline, her hips swaying as she glides effortlessly towards you like she’s barefoot instead of wearing at least four-inch black patent-leather Louboutin stilettos. 

“I got worried you left,” her musical voice says, sending a tingle down your spine. She smells like sweet vanilla, roses, and like she’d make all your dreams come true if you asked.

“Just needed to cool off,” you manage to mutter despite her proximity. If you just leaned forward half an inch, you’d finally find out what your chosen drink of the evening tastes like on her lips. 

“Do you mind if touch you? Fix a few things out place?” 

You shake your head. Of course you wouldn’t fucking mind if she touched you; she could do anything she wants to you. The graze of her knuckles against your own when she handed you your drink earlier, then again when you clinked glasses together, had sent a spark of electricity coursing through your veins, leaving you with wanting more.

Goosebumps erupt across your collarbone when her wine-red nails scrape across the tops your breasts as her fingers curl into the hem of your tank top. She shimmies it down a little lower, so the material highlights your cleavage a little better. Your chest rises and falls slowly when her hands move to your hair, then your face, making small adjustments here and there, until she finally grips you at your shoulders gleaming at you like you’re her masterpiece. “That’s better. Now, I do hope you at least say ‘hi’ to your admirer before you leave. I’m sure it would make his night.” 

You nod without quite realizing it, hypnotized by her scent…her charm…the way her breasts seem to strain against the bodice of her dress every time she inhales…. Up closer now, you swear she seems familiar, like this is not the first time that you’ve seen her. But, she seems young enough that you presume it’s from your job or university classes. 

“You two know each other?” you ask, cursing under your breath after the fact for the way your voice squeaked out the words. Fucking hell, you need to pull yourself together. 

“Something like that,” she says for the second time this evening, still seemingly oblivious to the way your mind drifts off wondering what it would be like to end up in between the sheets with her. 

You let the vixen guide you out of the bathroom, arm looped with hers like you’ve been besties your entire life. Thankfully, she deposits you back at the bar before sauntering away into the crowd again where she disappears within the sea of people as you berate yourself for forgetting to even ask her name. 

A bartender finally wonders back over towards you, but not take your order, instead just handing your drink of the night right to you. Just beyond the bartender at the other end of the bar, the vixen (wait when did she get over there?) blows you a kiss. This time when she rejoins the dance floor, you follow her with your eyes. She stops when she reaches the middle, leaning forward as she whispers into a tall burly blonde nearly twice her size, dressed like Fred from Scooby Doo. 

And then…fuck that’s fast. Then again, she is drop dead gorgeous and you too would probably follow her like a lost puppy if she asked you too. A pang of jealousy rips through you suddenly wishing you could be the man who gets to worship her this evening. But it’s only a momentary feeling, for seconds later the vixen’s cupping her hand around the male stranger’s ear from earlier. Then with a wink so clearly meant for you, she drags the other male towards the exit. Shit, and here you thought you wouldn’t actually have to follow through with the promise you made in the bathroom earlier, could just slip out undetected in a few minutes. 

Your eyes flash up to the ceiling then to the DJ then the bathrooms, desperately searching for anything that could hold your gaze instead of the handsome stranger’s eyes. It’s not that you don’t want him, because oh my fucking God, you would trade a kidney to even spend one night with him. It’s just that you’re not known for pick-up lines…And what if he’s just been staring at you because something is out of place with your costume? 

But a voice so tantalizing with its velvety smoothness and hint of an accent that it forces you to find its source trails over your ear, saving you from having to make any such moves. “You know it’s dangerous for a young woman like yourself to be out unaccompanied.” 

You don’t realize that your mouth has fallen open again till the owner of the voice reaches out and presses a finger beneath your chin till your lips meet. Of course the voice belongs to the handsome stranger from earlier in the evening; it matches him perfectly. 

Fuck, he is even sexier close-up…and also supposed to be a vampire? For a minute there when he smirked at you, he seemed to have the same over-accentuated canines like the young woman from earlier. Plus, there’s also those dark splotches at the hem and collar of his shirt… Regardless, the alcohol has thankfully finally begun to hit, just enough now that you feel your earlier trepidations with flirting disappear but still remain of sound mind and judgement.

So instead of dwelling on what exactly his costume is tonight, you say “Technically I did not arrive alone nor am I currently alone,” a giggle escapes your lips as he peers around you then looks behind his shoulder like he’s searching for a companion. “You’re here.”

His eyes are lighter than the vixen’s, but you cannot quite determine whether they are blue or green yet, nor can you figure out the color of the remaining hair on his head, braided down the center like you’ve seen in those medieval viking television shows. But, his jawline is so sharp it could cut steel and based on upon the way muscle ropes around his forearms and biceps, you’re certain there is a chiseled six-pack you’d love to run your tongue over hiding under that t-shirt. 

“Ah, but I’m a stranger. Could easily be a serial killer out to lure young women just like yourself under the guise of a good time.” 

A flash from one of the strobe lights flickers off of the array of rings riddled over his left hand as he brings his drink of choice to his lips. The golden ring implanted with a larger burgundy stone on his left finger intrigues you the most, reminding you of a class ring or perhaps a family heirloom with how worn it appears, like it’s been in his family for a very very long time. He looks oddly familiar to you too, but maybe he also attends your university. 

“Who says that I’m not the serial killer?” He chuckles at your lame deflection and you think you might just die then and there. “Besides, we won’t be strangers anymore if we exchange names.” 

The purple-hued light highlights his teeth when he grins in a frighteningly sexy kind of way sending a shudder down your spine, “Sigtryggr, and yours?” 

Sigtryggr…interesting. You’re pretty sure it’s Scandinavian, yet you get the feeling that it’s no longer a common name even for that region of the world. But then again, maybe it’s a family name passed down for generations. 

You tell him your name, then add “So, Sigtryggr, are you enjoying your evening?” 

“It seems like it’s on the uptake now.” Damn, he’s smooth. And before you can even think to respond, a scent that reminds you of drinking spiced apple cider in an evergreen forest during autumn washes over you all while his warm breath starts to tickle your ear, “You could solidify that outcome if you went home with me tonight.” 

Is it the most ingenious line to ever exist? Nope. But does it work? Yep. Yep, it fucking does. Because who would say no to an invitation like that from a man as handsome and sexy as him? 

Your thighs squeeze together as a rush of heat washes over you, desire brewing deep in your core at his prospect. Never in your life did you think we’re that easy to persuade, especially by someone you had only just barely talked too, and yet here you were letting this stranger lead you out of the club into the brick-walled lined back alley. 

A crisp autumn breeze sends an abandoned beer can rolling down the alley while leaves of browns, reds, and oranges skate across the pavement and a chill runs down your spine as you instinctively wrap your jacket further around you. Then there’s Sigtryggr with not even a singular patch of goosebumps in sight.

“You’re not cold?” 

“Where I’m from, this is warm. Here,” his hands feel like they’ve been resting in front of a fire as they rub up and down your biceps and oh - his eyes are a brilliant piercing blue, like a frozen lake… so easy to drown in…. “My place is only a couple of blocks but would you prefer to go back inside and wait for a taxi instead of walking?” 

“Don’t you mean an uber?” 

“Same thing. Question still stands.” Then that grin that makes your knees go weak beneath you appears again when you shake your head no, “Good, because I don’t think I can wait any longer.” 

His hands thread through your hair as he tilts your head back sending waves of desire crashing throughout your body. Your lips meet and you immediately taste iron. Fuck had you been so desperate that you had you bitten him by accident? Or maybe did he bite you? Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to mind. And before you can dwell on the thought, his tongue swipes across your lower lip eliciting a gasp that grants him access to your mouth. 

Your muscles begin to relax as you give into the kiss, letting your hands roam up over his broad shoulders to his head, the stubble from where he’s shaved the sides of his head prickling your fingers. The heat building at the apex of thighs begins to throb as the intensity and desperation between the two of you begins to climax. Fuck, you want him so badly that you’d drop your panties right now and let him fuck you against the brick wall, onlookers be damned. So what if you end up in jail or in the paper tomorrow? He’s fucking hot and so worth it. 

  You find yourself keening forward onto your toes, eyes still shut, when Sigtryggr’s lips suddenly disappear from yours, desperate for another taste of the bourbon laced with iron on his tongue. “Finished already, my love?” he asks. 

No, of course you’re not fucking finished with him. You two have only just gotten started, the heat pooling in your belly begging to be relieved by either his cock or one of those long ring-clad fingers of his. 

Your eyes pop back open when your back hits the cool bricks, breaking you of your daze like having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Sigtryggr’s hand rests gently on your shoulder, holding you firmly in place as you follow his gaze, finding the chestnut-haired angelic vixen from earlier striding towards you as she licks her fingers.

And that’s when you clock the glittering gold ring with a deep burgundy stone shaped like a flower, looking oddly… familiar. Then like a flash of a lightbulb turning on, it comes to you; it matches the gold one that you had written off as just family heirloom of Sigtryggr’s …like a coordinated set…both rings looking straight out of the early medieval section at the museum and worn on their left ring fingers… Then another headlight from a car passing by illuminates the two strangers; alright, they definitely are dressed like vampires…a matching costume…because they’re married. They are most definitely married. 

Fuck, you didn’t know that they were married, let alone married to each other. But, she practically pushed you into Sigtryggr’s lap, hadn’t she? Or maybe she was talking about a different stranger? And that wink had nothing to do with the promise she had asked you to make in the bathroom? 

Either way, you open your mouth to apologize, but the vixen beats you to it, her melodic voice gaining a vicious edge to it as she says, “Tasted too much like coke and fuck boy for my liking. But, I think she’ll taste much sweeter on my tongue.” 

“Too bad I’ve already claimed her for the evening.” 

“I saw her first. And you don’t mind sharing, do you?” Sigtryggr’s palms slide up and down your waist now, but it does nothing to help the fear rising inside of you as they both stare you down like two ravenous predators. Oh.. so she meant that question for you. 

You gulp, eyes shifting between the two of them as you sputter, “I-Are you two divorced?” Because, they have to be…right? It feels like the only explanation for what’s happening.. and shit, the vixen most definitely could kill you in a heartbeat.

“Nah that’s on my agenda for next century.” 

Sigtyggr’s head whips towards his wife faster than an elastic snapping back into place, “What?” 

“I’m kidding, sheesh,” the vixen says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I file for divorce once when women finally earned the right when we were already due to update our marriage license and he’s still so fucking sensitive about it, as if we have not been together for the last millennia.”  Damn, they have a backstory for their costumes and everything. They must really fucking love halloween…or roleplaying…or both. Alright, so maybe being swingers isn’t totally out of the realm of possibility here…  

“My wife, the drama queen.” 

“And you fucking love it.” 

“I do.” Then suddenly, Sigtryggr begins conversing with his wife in a dialect you don’t recognize, some Scandinavian language probably. 

And that’s when you put together who they are or rather what they are… the eerily ancient rings, the pure perfection of their appearances, their enticing scents, the old yet modern ways in which they speak, the iron on your tongue…. 

Your thumb brushes over your lower lip, coming away clean. The only blood you can see on Sigtryggr is on his - yeah no, that’s definitely real blood on his clothes. And the vixen’s lips? Definitely not still stained from the cocktail… Plus those hyper-realistic over exaggerated canines are not some weird cosmetic surgery either…These aren’t some silly costumes.. Nor are they history fanatics or family heirloom hoarders…  They are history. They are…. vampires. 

But not just any vampires either. You’ve heard about a million different versions of the legend of the undead king and queen of York, more frequently as of late due to the season. Some hailed the hauntingly beautiful young woman in front of you as the secret queen of York, Sihtric Caech’s true love and mistress whom all his children were truly sired through, his marriage to Eadgyth only political. Others believed she was King Athelstan’s sister but changed her name along with the king of Northumbria as to not raise suspicion when they were believed to be dead. But your absolute favorite version of the myth told the story of a king so distraught, driven mad even, by the death of his first wife that he sold his soul to Hel in exchange for an eternal life with her. 

The beat of your heart begins to thrum in your ears, something deep inside of your urging to take the opportunity to run. But instead, your feet stay firmly in place, too mesmerized by the way the mated pair in front of you toys the line of arguing and flirting, expressions shifting between teasing smiles and exasperated eye rolls as the two lover’s quarrel. A flash of light from the headlights of a car reflect off the undead queen’s pearl white teeth momentarily when she smiles making your breathing halt, looking like some demonic mix of angel and monster. 

Monster. Right. Vampire. Right. 

Their love quarrel continues with you now certain it’s over who gets to sink their teeth into your neck then suck you dry till you’re just a cold limp corpse on the ground. Your chest begins to rise and fall thrice as fast as its previous pace. Vampires. They’re vampires, idiot. And what do vampires eat? Dumb little humans who fall for their charm…. You need to leave. Now. Before you become their next meal. 

A puff of dust erupts from the brick wall as a loud cracking sound that can only come from cement (or maybe bones?) splitting  echoes across the alleyway at the same time Sigtryggr emits a low primal growl from deep within his chest as he pins his wife to the structure. Your heels pop off the ground momentarily, but more from the suddenness of the gesture; honestly the motion should have terrified both of you and the queen with its intensity. But while the vixen just giggles playfully at her husband, you feel the deep ache from earlier makes itself at home between your thighs once again. Worst of all, you’re stuck ogling at them once more as she takes his bottom lip between her teeth, urging his lips to meet hers….

Right. Fuck. Vampires. Fuck. Want to eat you…even if they are hot and so lost in their lust for one another that you feel that pang of jealousy a second time that evening. So lost… they don’t even know you’re there anymore. So lost… they won’t even notice if you leave! Which you should definitely do…Now! 

Your feet finally begin to move beneath you as you attempt to tiptoe away from them, slowly turning towards your exit. But just as you think you’re free, your ankle begins to roll.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! They will definitely hear you eating shit on the pavement. Once again - fuck, your best friends and their insistence on stilettos with cobble stone. But before the edge of your foot even fully makes contact with the pavement, a firm grip lands on your shoulder, steadying you. Of course they fucking noticed before it even happened, even heard it happening, enhanced abilities and reflexes be fucking damned.

You still turn your head back even though you know exactly whose hand has just saved you from embarrassment. “Careful there. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt before we’re done with you, ” the vixen says with a wink. 

“Are y-you going to kill me?” you manage to stutter out. 

“Oh no, youre too pretty for that. We took care of that earlier anyways. We just want to have fun with you.” 

Fun?! What could they mean by fun other than killing you? What the fuck do vampires do to have fun? “Like go to an arcade or something?” 

“Were you planning on going to an arcade with my husband?” Shit, you said that last part out loud didn’t you? And no, you were planning to fu- Oh. OH. 

“So what will it be a yes or a no? My dear husband said I’m not allowed to make the decision for you, but you better —” 

“Stiorra,” the undead king chides. So, that’s the vixen’s name…Seems fitting for her as well. 

“So, if my answer is yes, how does this work? Are we taking turns or something? I mean he’s your husband so obviously you get first cho-” 

“Oh, don’t flatter my husband. He’s not the one being shared. It’s you.” Oh, fuck. You definitely did not see that in the cards for tonight.. And then Stiorra answers the question you didn’t even realize you still had, “Together.” 

Together…like a…like a threesome. Oh….Oh. “Yeah, I think that uh..I think that’s fine.” You say trying to hide the giddiness building inside of you. Isn’t the saying that everything can be solved with a threesome? 

Stiorra turns to her husband, a look that can only be categorized as ‘I-told-you-so’ clear across her features as he remarks, “Well, lille elskede, my wife gets her way once again.”

“No, that doesn’t fit her at all. She’s our…our lille dukke.” 

Not even fifteen minutes later, you’re tucked against Stiorra’s lithe frame, already feeling reluctant at having to eventually detach yourself from the warmth she provided you on the walk from the club to their apartment. Their flat is unsurprisingly the penthouse suite; what else would you do with a millennia worth of savings?

“This is your place?” Fuck, what another dumb fucking question. Did Sigtryggr not just use a key to open the door? 

“Quaint isn’t it? Wanted something more discreet and cozy as we’re here so infrequently and mostly for business.” Sure, the place could be considered quaint if you were used to mansions and castles - oh, right, you may not have confirmed it officially, but you’re still certain that they have to be the undead king and queen. 

You humbly accept Stiorra’s offer of water as your eyes scale the vaulted ceilings, the silvery white glow of the moon shining through the skylights. But, your time exploring their apartment is cut short as Stiorra practically yanks you down the hall, not even stopping when her fingers curl into the collar of her husband’s shirt to drag him along too. 

Their bedroom hosts a beautifully espresso-colored ornate four-poster bed (probably a California king) garnished with what looks like the most luxurious, soft, plush linen set in a deep navy that you’ve ever laid your eyes upon. The bright overhead light coming from a beautiful gold and crystal chandelier blinds you briefly before dimming down to a soft warm glow, just enough that you can see them clearly. Well, there’s clearly no time to run now seeing as you’ve officially ventured into the lions den. 

Butterflies dance in your stomach as the anticipation for the evening peaks inside of you. Your grip on the heavy crystal glass in your hands tightens as your hand begins to tremor. Sure, this might not be your first time, but it is your first threesome with thousand-year-old vampires who most definitely know what they are doing when it comes to pleasure. 

But then a gentle hand brushes the hair away from your shoulders, tickling the delicate skin there in the most delightful way. You turn towards the sensation, your eyes meeting the deep chocolate brown of Stiorra’s who beams at you like an angel as her husband trails kisses along her neck. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” The sweetness and sincerity in her musical voice soothes the trepidation inside of you, just enough that you take the step forward towards her to close the distance. The glass in your hands gets passed to Sigtryggr, disappearing almost like magic (though really it only seems that way as you’re too busy worrying your lower lip as you become enchanted by Stiorra’s beauty once more). 

Then finally, her lips are on yours, gentle and soft - like she’s easing you into the evening ahead. The taste of sweet maraschino cherries overpowers the lingering bits of iron from her earlier meal, but it’s the way her feather-light touch skims over your frame that makes you wobble at the knees. For a moment, it’s just the two of you underneath the most glorious clear night sky, the kind of night where you can see the milkyway in all its different shades of blues, purples, greens and grays. 

And oh my god, the way her tongue runs over the seam of your lips has you daydreaming about how glorious it might be to have her wield it between your thighs. She giggles when you whimper into her mouth, hands fumbling into her hair as you attempt to pull her as flush to you as possible. But instead, she shifts beneath your touch till one of your hands lands on something much harder, like granite. 

Your eyes flutter open, unveiling the new placement of your hand. Sigtryggr lifts your chin, pulling you towards him as your lips meet for the second time this evening. You can taste his wife on his lips and the faint remnants of bourbon. Melting into his touch, you keen forward onto your tiptoes as you pull him closer, nails digging into the sides of his head. 

A sharp nip at your neck has you inhaling sharply, but only for a moment as seconds later, your head begins to fall back as a tongue sweeps over the tender area. As you relish in the feeling, one of your companions hands slides up across your stomach till it lands on one of your breasts. Your back arches, pressing yourself further into their touch as they begin to knead the soft mound. Then a moan trembles of your lips when fingers find your nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top and bra giving the hardened nub a sudden twist. 

The sensations halt suddenly, a little whine coming from your throat as you hear the beginnings of a belt buckle loosening. Stiorra stands directly between you and her husband now. You watch, fingers brushing over your now tender and slightly swollen lips, as Stiorra quite literally rips away the king’s shirt, hands exploring the smooth muscle of his rock solid six pack then slowly descending lower and lower till one slips down past the waist band of his boxers. 

Sigtryggr’s head hits the wall behind him with a loud clang as he groans his wife’s name. You swear you hear her smirk right before she falls to her knees in front of him. And then there it is… just as rock solid as his abs…Fuck, he’s big. The queen runs her hand up and down the length of the steel rod, stopping ever so often to brush her thumb over the tip or give a little kitten lick to the underside as Sigtryggr steps his way out of his remaining garments. Arousal pools between your legs, yearning to know what it feels like to have the king’s cock sheathed inside of you….or even just get a taste. 

And then as if she can read your mind, Stiorra pulls you down next to her. “You want a taste of my husband’s cock, don’t you?” That playful little smirk of hers that promises nothing but trouble appears again after you somehow manage to nod while picking your jaw up off the floor as she adds, “He likes it when you take him deep.” 

Sigtryggr’s fingers rake through his wife’s hair in a sweet but possessive way commanding, “You’re going to need to show her, my love.” 

His thumb then presses at the hinge of her jaw, till her mouth falls open for him. Your mouth begins to water to the point where you might be drooling as you watch the king slowly guide his member into the mouth of the queen then keeps going…and going…and going… till only an inch or so remains. 

His hips rock forward as Stiorra remains still as a statue, eagerly and easily taking her husband’s cock in her mouth like it’s the simplest gesture in the world. Even when he holds her at the deepest point for a few long seconds, she hardly flinches. And, it’s not until he pulls her off him with a swift tug of her hair that the queen makes any noise beyond the muffled garbled noises from having her husband’s dick shoved down her throat. But even looking positively wrecked from her husband throat fucking her, the queen is still as radiant as ever, now just with mussed hair, rosy cheeks, and glistening lips. 

The soft mewling sounds emanating from Stiorra quickly morph into soft purrs when Sigtryggr’s hand moves to cup his wife’s throat. Her head then flips towards you, deep brown eyes now blown an onyx color, a wicked grin plastered on her face. She reaches out to you, brushing your hair off your shoulder before wrapping her hand around your jaw. Then slowly, the queen begins to guide the king’s cock into your mouth inch by inch. 

“That’s a good girl,” she praises as her fingers brush through your hair, slowly bobbing your head up and down for you. “Just like that.” 

Tears brim your eyes as Sigtryggr fucks you, each thrust hitting the back of your throat. Your nails dig into his arse, eager to please him just as his wife had done. Though, there’s no way you can do what she did, only able to tolerate most of his length. A growl emanates from low in Sigtryggr’s throat as he pulls himself all the way out. 

Air fills your lungs, your following gasp a little too loud for your liking. But neither one of your companions seem to notice as Stiorra leans into the hand that strokes her head, gleaming like an obedient pet whose just been praised for good behavior. There’s genuine love in the way Sigtryggr looks back at her, but there’s pride there too. It’s the kind of affection you only see between two people who would stop at nothing but to give the world to one another, so unbreakable that even death would only seem to be a new beginning, like a gateway to eternity. 

With one more deep inhale and a lick of your lips, you return to the work you started, this time relying more on your tongue as you run it underneath the entirety of his length then swirl it around the tip. The milky white bead his cock weeps burns your throat slightly when you swallow it. But, you ignore the slight discomfort, desperate to please in hopes of having the ache that now throbs between your thighs quelled by one of them…or both of them…really whatever they want to do. 

A delicate hand lands on your shoulder, then tugs backwards ever so slightly, just enough that you know they’re asking you to stop. Together, the three of you migrate to the bed, where Stiorra immediately shoves her husband onto his back. The mattress has a little give to it as you crawl a top of it, preparing to take Sigtryggr’s cock again. But just as you get into position, a vice grip entraps your ankle then yanks you towards the head of the bed. 

The sound of fabric tearing fills the room for a moment, the remnants of your lace thong fluttering to the floor. Then the king’s tongue is running up and down the length of your seam. You fall forward onto your hands, a moan immediately trembling off your lips…Fuck. Never in your life could you have imagined sitting on top of one the hottest men to ever exist as he wields his tongue in ways you did not ever think were even possible and yet…here you are….

Slow teasing passes turn into more deliberate strokes, then small flicks till he’s narrowing his focus onto the small pearl at the apex of your sex. You peel your tank top off of yourself, desperate to have every inch of you touched as you ride the king’s face. When he suddenly groans against you again, likely from the way the queen continues her magic on him at the base of the bed, your walls begin to tighten as your get closer and closer to reaching your high. 

It’s all over for you once he slips two fingers inside your cunt, alternating between scissoring the two digits and thrusting them against the second most sensitive point of your womanhood. Your chest rises and falls, faster and faster as an electrifying tingle begins to spread out from your core to the tips of your toes. And when your high finally comes, you cry out the king’s name, panting as you whole body begins to tremble. 

“Seems like our lille dukke is enjoying herself,” Stiorra muses as Sigtryggr moves you beside him, all while a rush of heat stains your cheeks crimson. Had you really been that loud? 

“Do I sense a bit of jealously, my love?” The king says as his hand makes lazy sweeps over Stiorra’s thigh. 

“Only that you got to taste her first.” 

Then like a lioness on the prowl, the queen crawls on top of her husband. Now clad in only a delicate black lace full lingerie set, a singular piece probably costing more than your entire outfit, you gawk at the vixen as if she is the prey being served to you on a platter, wishing to roam your hands all over her lithe frame. Alas, it’s the king who receives that honor first. 

Your arousal still clings to Sigtryggr’s lips and barely-there stubble as Stiorra captures her husband’s lips with her own, grinding herself against him. But she does not just clean his face of you, taking her husband’s fingers still glistening from your cunt into her mouth as she sucks them clean, a motion that immediately reignites your heady need to be ravished by the two of them. 

Sigtryggr’s hands palm at Stiorra’s arse then slowly roam up over her back, the straps her bra falling forward off her shoulders from the force of the elastic snapping open. It falls to the floor as the two mates continue to relish in each other’s touch, making you start to wonder if your time with them is over.

You’d already gotten much more than you had initially expected, thinking you’d mostly be pleasuring them then the other way around. But just as you’re ready to slip away, Stiorra sets her sights on you, the breathtaking lioness cornering you like prey. 

You taste yourself on her tongue as she rids you of your bra, hands massaging your sensitive mounds. Kisses then skate down across your neck, over past your collar bone, till she takes one of your pebbled nipples into her mouth. Your back arches into her as you pull her closer, your body aching for her to unravel you. A mewling noise releases itself when a couple of her fingers slip past your folds, dipping briefly into your cunt, your whimpers only growing louder when she pulls her digits away. 

“I think someone’s ready for you, Sig.” 

Then like she’s your lady-in-waiting, Stiorra helps you straddle her husband. You whimper again as the tip of Sigtryggr’s cock slides against your slickness, then slowly slips into you. Just like the queen had guided your head when your first took Sigtryggr into your mouth, she guides your hips, lifting you up and down. Your head falls back, the fullness alone driving you mad. But, it’s when Stiorra’s singular digit begins to draw circles over the hooded bundle of nerves that you start moaning out both their names. 

Sigtryggr’s hands replace Stiorra’s in roaming your body, fingers occasionally tweaking your nipple or sliding over your pearl as you ride the king. As you surrender to the slow build, your teeth sink into your lower lip, watching the queen slip her panties off her long curvaceous legs. 

Stiorra’s thumb brushes tenderly across her husband’s forehead as she places a gentle kiss to his lips. Fuck, if you were anywhere else, you’d be getting your camera out at how adorable the two of them look. It’s the kind of love you hope to find one day, one that earns the title of the greatest love story ever written or recorded. 

A growl reverberates from deep within Sigtryggr’s chest suddenly, as his hands fly to his wife’s hips, pulling her up on top of his face just as you had been early. Stiorra hums, grinding herself down against her husband. Then her chocolate brown eyes are on you again. 

She leans forward, a wildness alight on her features as she pulls your face close to hers. The kiss she gives you sends butterflies flipping in your stomach with it’s gentleness, almost like she’s telling you that she cares about you too. Your fingers lace through her silken hair, the scent of vanilla and roses overwhelming you once more. God, you could kiss this vixen for hours. 

Then, fuck, there’s that sharp twinge of pain mixing with waves of pleasure as the Queen suckles at your pulse point. A warmth trickles down your neck, bright droplets of cherry red dripping down Stiorra’s lips onto Sigtryggr’s chest. Her grin spreads across her face when you offer her your wrist next, needing to feel that sensation over and over again. She takes it eagerly, savoring a few mouthfuls before placing your hand back over your clit where she helps you draw small quick circles. 

A loud smack sounds through the room, though Stiorra only smirks, removing herself from her husband’s face. Then Sigtryggr lifts you off of him, like your weight is equal to a feather, before positioning you onto all fours as he climbs behind you.

“You’ve been greedy tonight, my love.”

Stiorra guffaws, “You started it. Besides, she tastes sweeter than candy.” 

“Perhaps, it’s time I take a taste as well.” 

Then for a moment, your back is flush to his chest, his teeth sinking into you as he finally takes a taste. You shudder beneath his touch, head lolling back onto the king’s shoulder as he drinks from you.  Another sharp pang at your wrist sends your eyes flying open, catching the reflection of the three of you in the windows. Sigtryggr’s hands explore every inch of your naked body, kneading and massaging his way up and down. Every nerve is on fire as you stare breathlessly at the reflected image, inciting a frenzy inside of you. But, it’s when the king and queen’s blood-tinged lips meet in a messy kiss as they share the taste of you that your core goes molten. 

You cry out as Sigtryggr suddenly sheaths himself inside of you, your hands somehow managing to catch you before you face plant. His pace is faster than yours had been, hips snapping into you over and over again. Moan after moan rolls of your lips, one after another, growing louder as every thrust hits you deeply, right at the second most sensitive spot of your cunt. 

The queen moves in front of you, her legs opening up to you as she puts her womanhood on display like an invitation to the most decadent meal. You lick your lips, leaning closer and closer till your head just hovers above her center. The queen’s hand threads into your locks, gently stroking across your scalp; she wants you too. 

Your first taste of her is sweet yet salty, twinged with the same acidity you had tasted on Sigtryggr, like it’s not quite meant to be experienced by humans. You dive in anyways, your tongue swiping up and down her seam, eyes flickering back up every so often to ensure that what you’re doing pleases the queen. She keeps her hand intertwined with your hair, tingles spreading from your head to your toe as she massages your scalp. Then, Stiorra finally hums when you spread her folds to kitten lick at her nub. 

You pause suddenly, spotting Sigtryggr’s hand reaching forward as his lust-ridden voice says, “She likes it when you’re mean.” Then his fingers pinch at her pebbled nipple, twisting it in a way that can only seem a little painful, “Don’t you, my love?” 

For the first time that evening, you truly hear the queen roar with pleasure as her back arches off the mattress, chest pressing further into her husband’s palm. With your new instructions, you return to your work, eager to make the vixen purr just as her husband had done. And when your nail accidentally scrapes at Stiorra’s pearl, you begin to piece together what the king had meant for you to do. 

Alternating between sweet strokes and small nips, Stiorra begins to squirm beneath your touch as her body sings for you. All the while, your own body begins to inch closer and closer to the edge, walls beginning to flex against Sigtryggr’s cock as he continues to fuck you. Your peak comes suddenly like a wave crashing over you, your whole body clenching then releasing in the most delicious way, barely able to continue your work with the queen. 

Sigtryggr carries you through your orgasm, letting you ride out every ounce of it till you’re a breathless mess. Then with a sigh, his movements halt suddenly, “I’m close, my love.” 

Like a trained pet, Stiorra’s legs snap shut as she rolls towards her husband, gently nudging you out of the way. 

With a wink she teases, “Dont want any babies with married man do ya?”

A loud smack reverberates around the room, the bed rattling beneath you so forcibly that you think it might break, when Sigtryggr’s hand lands on his wife’s ass, a slyful smirk on his lips.

But she hardly moves, keening forward ever so slightly on to her hands as a soft moan escapes her lips. “I think you’re losing your touch,” she teases, despite her wrecked voice and onyx-blown eyes indicating otherwise. 

Sigtryggr’s teeth sink into Stiorra’s arse, then his head disappears out of sight. Your thighs press together suddenly, hoping the action might hide the way desire now pools out of you as you watch the mated pair. Only seconds pass before Stiorra’s hands fist into the sheets at your feet, her head falling forward. Her shuddered breaths fill the room, slowly growing louder like till she can no longer hold herself back, her husband’s name falling off her lips in a cry.

The shine of Stiorra’s cunt glimmers off her husband’s fingers and barely-there beard as he reemerges. Sucking his digits clean, he says “Still think I’ve lost my touch?”

When the queen arches her back, wriggling her ass at him like a mouse being dangled in front of a hungry feline, you think you might shatter right then and there, wishing to both trade places with her and be her undoing. 

Then she says, “Hmm, I think you could learn a thing or two from our lille dukke ” making a rush of heat form beneath your cheeks.  

And by the way Sigtryggr grips his wife’s hips, a way that can only be bone-crushing to a human, then buries his cock inside of her in one quick snap of his hips, you are certain she’s driving him crazy too.

The heat beneath your cheeks deepens to the point that you’re sure if you looked in a mirror right now you’d be scarlet as you watch the king fuck his queen. Sigtryggr’s hands rake into his wife’s hair as he pulls her up against his chest, hips bucking into her at a pace far quicker and harsher than he had been with you. The muscles in his forearm flex beneath his flesh as he holds it flush against the chestnut-haired queen’s waist while his other hand moves from her hair to cup her chin, tilting it up and away till he can sink his teeth right beneath her ear. His wife squirms against him, a mewling noise trembling off her lips. 

You inhale sharply, tongue running over your lips as you watch the hand around Stiorra’s neck slowly descend down through the valley between her breasts then across her stomach, only stopping once it has reached the small tiny pearl at the apex of her thighs. Your legs squeeze together even tighter, the slickness of your arousal pooling out of you making your thighs slip against each other instinctually as you try to quell the throb you feel in your cunt.  

One of Stiorra’s arms snakes up behind her husband’s head, pulling him down towards her till their noses brush. There’s a tenderness in the way she kisses him, like it’s meant to show love not passion. More importantly, it’s clear as day now that they’re done with you with the way the two mates hold each other’s gazes, lost in their love and lust for one another once more.  

Somehow you manage to will yourself to move, needing to force yourself to look anywhere else but at them before your drool drips onto the sheets. But just when you’ve swung one leg over the edge of a bed, a delicate hand wraps around your wrist, then a voice that sounds prettier than a bird song floats over your ears, “Oh, don’t think we’re finished with you just yet.” 

Stiorra falls back onto her palms like a feline, releasing the grip of your wrist in favor the ankle still on the bed. Then before you can process what she’s doing, her hands pin your knees to the mattress, putting your glistening cunt on display. 

“I think somebody wishes we were rougher with her,” the queen smirks. 

Heat flushes your cheeks again, but your bashfulness is only short-lived for the queen’s tongue licking your inner thigh clean of your slickness as she trails closer to your center has you seeing stars. Unlike her husband, she plays with you, taking her sweet time as she nibbles and flicks her tongue  anywhere but where you seek it most. A musical amused giggle tickles your flesh, causing your hips to buck a second time; the first having been when the queen suddenly sank her teeth into your thigh. 

A loud smack sounds through the air at the same time Stiorra jolts. “Play nice with our lille dukke,” Sigtryggr’s husky voice chides. 

You catch Stiorra pouting as she looks over her shoulder to her husband whose palm twitches against her ass, his pointed look promising trouble if she continues with her antics. Then with a dramatic eye roll, the queen starts to lower herself onto her forearms, as if she’s finally about to give you what you need. 

But just as you feel her warm breath against your folds, you stutter “No it’s - it’s okay. I kinda liked it.” 

Stiorra gleams brighter than a neon sign, a smile that can only promise wicked things pulling at the corners of her mouth. Then after a quick flash of her tongue at her husband, she begins to reward you for your confession. 

Kitten-licks to the small bead at the apex of your sex turn to quick tight circles as you begin to fall a part beneath the queen’s touch. You’re back arches off the silken sheets, gripping them so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The Queen’s name trembles off your lips and just when you start to see fireworks, she plunges two fingers inside of your cunt. Together with her tongue, the queen’s fingers curl and pit patter inside of you bringing you higher and higher. You begin to tremble beneath her touch, toes curling while you beg for your release till finally, every nerve explodes with pleasure as your third little death completely destroys you. 

Your body goes limp as your peak comes crashing back down, chest rising and falling at a slower and slower rate as a warm hum begins to spread throughout your limbs. Never once in your life have you felt so satiated by a sexual encounter…felt so alive. 

When you finally find the energy (and will) to push up to your elbows, you find an endearing sight in front of you. The queen has her legs wrapped around the king’s waist as her hands cradle his head, kisses swallowing each other’s sounds of pleasure. Fuck, they even make finishing together look straight out of a twisted Hallmark movie as they whisper sweet nothings to each other. They really couldn’t be any more of a perfect couple. 

Moments later, Stiorra lands on the bed next to you looking like a giddy preteen about to have her first sleepover party as she kneels at your side. You catch the towel Sigtryggr tosses your way, wiping your body as clean as a dry towel will allow as Stiorra runs hands through your hair. 

“Can we keep her? Please?” Stiorra begs, stroking your forehead like you’re a…like you’re her new doll. 

“It’s not up to us, my love.” 

Stiorra rolls her eyes at her husband again then bites her wrist and offers it to you. “It’ll help you heal faster.” 

You nod, apprehensively bringing her wrist to your mouth. A rush of warmth flows over your tongue like you’re drinking warm honey instead of blood. You whimper when the wrist disappears suddenly, depriving you of the sweet nectar, only for a larger slightly rougher wrist to replace it as Stiorra grumbles “Hey!” 

“My blood’s stronger,” Sigtryggr teases, a smacking sound presumably coming from his wife shortly following the jab. “Alright, that’s enough lille dukke. Don’t want to bleed us dry.” 

A sheepish grin tugs at the corners of your lips as Stiorra tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “Such a good lille dukke.” Then with a sigh, she pulls back the covers, “Come let’s get you to sleep.” 

You open your mouth to protest, insist that you take a cab back to your flat, only to feel the rush of exhaustion weigh down your eyelids. You have your location shared with your friends. Plus, Sigtryggr and Stiorra don’t seem to want to murder you…yet. So perhaps, staying the night isn’t the worst idea in the world. With a yawn, you slip underneath the covers where Stiorra nestles herself between you and her husband, pulling you close to her as your scalp begins to tingle from her fingers stroking through your hair. Then, only moments later you succumb to the sweetest slumber. 

The bed is empty except for yourself when your eyes flutter open the next morning. A sharp pang pierces your heart as you look around the room searching for them. You’d think it had all been dream had you not woken up in someone else’s apartment. With a mournful sigh, your toes flex against the wooden floor as you push yourself to stand then go searching for whatever remains of your clothing. And that’s when you see it - a small pile of clothes and shoes that are not yours, a paper bag, a danish pastry, and a small note written in the most elegant calligraphy you have ever laid eyes upon: 

“Our driver will take you home whenever you’re ready to leave, just let the doorman know. We hope to hear from you soon, lille dukke.” 

Then in a slightly less elegant hand-writing, an addendum: 

“PS - Keep the clothes. I have plenty. What remains of yours are in the bag.” 

[musingmeaninglessly]

Watching Across the Spiderverse w/ Lo'ak & Neteyam (ft. Spider)

A/N; Since so many of us crossover into both these fandoms, I came up with this fun idea. Also, it was kinda inspired by the cute human drabbles that @littletrippyyhippyy writes! Hope y'all enjoy, I made myself laugh writing this, at least 😂

Warnings; Bit of swearing. Spider loses it. Lo'ak's a dummy. Spoilers for both movies, I guess??? Human reader. Kinda proofread.

Summary; You convince Neteyam and Lo'ak to watch Across the Spiderverse with you. They have some questions...

"OH. MY. GOD."

From your sudden verbal outburst, it's safe for the Sully brothers next to you to assume that you enjoyed the movie.

Across the Spiderverse, to be exact.

"That was incredible!! You guys liked it, right? Of course you did! You loved it! Tell me how much you loved it!!" you ramble, excitedly jumping up from your seat on the couch, turning to face your two Na'vi friends.

It had all been Jake's idea. Ever since you arrived on Pandora five years ago, his sons had become more interested in learning about human culture, from different foods to pop culture. The Sully patriarch had a feeling that their interest had piqued because of you specifically, but that was an avenue to be ventured down another time.

The brothers had happily agreed to watch this movie with you, despite having no idea what a spider is or why it should be attributed to any man. But, they couldn't turn down any time spent with you.

After begging Norm to somehow source the long-awaited sequel to Into the Spiderverse, you had ushered them over to the shack through the comms system. Whether you believed in the deity or not, you thanked God for Norm and his ways. Wi-Fi on Pandora was sketchy at best and just about held up for the odd email. Yet, somehow, Norm had got a hold of the new cinematic release so that you wouldn't have to suffer through streaming it.

And for you, it had been so worth the wait. You had loved every damn second. When Into the Spiderverse came out, you had been preparing to leave Earth. It was crazy to think how much had changed in the five years since you arrived on Pandora, a theme that had been mirrored in the movie.

Whipping your head round from the projector screen, where the movie credits rolled, Neteyam and Lo'ak would've marvelled at the joy lighting up your face if they hadn't been so damn confused. Neteyam looked as though he were about to say something but was continuously rephrasing it in his mind. Whereas Lo'ak just came straight out with it, amber eyes narrowed. "I'm confused..."

"By what?" you scrunch your face up. You had taken time to explain the whole premise of the Marvel universe to the brothers. Apparently they hadn't caught on just yet.

"Everything. Why could that Miles guy walk upside down? Why were there so many man spiders? And when will he kiss the blonde girl??"

"Lo'ak, I explained it all to you! Miles got bit by a radioactive Spider in the first movie, couldn't save his uncle Aaron, and you should know the rest!" you flop in between the brothers in an over-dramatic way, resuming your seat from earlier.

Lo'ak's brows knit together in a childish sort of way, but he smirks teasingly. "I can't ask questions now? Not my fault your dumb human movie makes no sense... OW!"

Neteyam's slap up the side of Lo'ak's head puts him back in his place. You exchange an amused glance with the oldest Sully brother, before giving Lo'ak a nudge in the ribs.

"Shut up, skxawng. Not my fault you didn't pay attention! The movie was amazing, right Neteyam?"

Neteyam looks a little caught off guard as you ask his opinion. In truth, he's a little confused by the story too, but he had paid better attention to your precursory Marvel lesson.

"It was...interesting." he muses thoughtfully, before Lo'ak cuts him off.

"I got another question! Why, Y/N, did you blush whenever that big guy came on the screen?"

His shit-eating smirk would have annoyed you if your thoughts hadn't been redirected to your favourite hunky Spider-Man.

"Oh, Miguel?" you ask before sighing dreamily. The brothers watch you in amusement as you resemble an ice pop melting in the August sun. "He's yummy..."

"Gross! He was a jerk!" Lo'ak exclaims. "He looked like he was about to explode he was so huge! Is this really what you human girls like?"

Grabbing the remote from you, Lo'ak rewinds the movie to a still of Miguel, immediately wishing he hadn't when you squeal in delight. As you do, though, he not-so-subtly flexes his biceps to compare with your animated crush.

"You got a way to go, bro" Neteyam chortles, eyeing his brother's lanky arms in amusement. Lo'ak just rolls his eyes.

"Whatever. That guy was an asshole. Did you see the way he yelled at Miles?" Lo'ak waves his arms around and it's honestly amusing to you how invested he appears to be in the movie.

"Kinda reminded me of you and your Dad..." you tap your chin in thought, grinning at the sputtering sound of laughter that comes from Neteyam beside you. Once again, Lo'ak scowls, but it doesn't stop you adding, "...on a good day..."

Neteyam loses it then and there, his usual coyness replaced with hysterical laughter that forces him to reach for the Co2 ask around his neck. Even Lo'ak cracks a small smile at your quip, and soon you're all laughing together.

That is, until the moment is interrupted by your human brother from another mother.

"Hey guys! I got snacks for the movie, I can't wait to see i-"

Spider's eyes widen with betrayal as they land on the rolling credits on the screen. His jaw drops, as do the snacks that he's holding. You can only bite your lip and stifle a laugh as his focus turns to you, pointing an accusing finger. "YOU."

"Spider, I'm sorry but you took too long!" you leap up, backing away from him. He's taller than you, after all, and evidently pissed. The sight makes Neteyam and Lo'ak snicker a little, although they are a bit worried for you...

"You watched the whole damn thing without me!" Spider is not far away from throwing a hissy fit, and it takes everything in you not to explode with laughter. Hands outstretched, you look as though you're taming a wild mountain banshee. At the moment, Spider certainly resembles one. "YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I LOVE SPIDER-MAN, Y/N! WHY DO YOU THINK EVERYONE CALLS ME SPIDER?"

"I thought it was because of your hair, bro..." Lo'ak teases, truly testing your resolve where laughter is concerned.

"BRO-"

"Let's calm down..." Neteyam chuckles, standing up to try and calm Spider down in his big-brotherly way, "We'll watch it again, right Y/N?"

"Of course!" you squeak, growing a little nervous at Spider's impending wrath. So much so that after hiding behind Neteyam, you dart towards the door, giggling as you run away from the taller human boy.

"Y/N! YOU. ARE. DEAD!"

There's a mad chase, but the Sully brothers look at each other in amusement as they hear your high-pitched laughter resounding through the corridor.

"Looks like we're watching the man spiders again, bro..." Lo'ak turns to his brother.

"Yeah, looks that way..." Neteyam grins.

[queer-reader-07]

don't mind me i'm just dropping my review of dune part 2 here because i really really really loved this movie and it changed me on a molecular level and i can't stop thinking about it and everyone should watch it it's so good i'm not joking it's literally one of the best films i've ever watched. ok anyway, review:

I remember very clearly the day I finished Dune. I remember how I was sitting at the kitchen table, eating rice & beans with a spoon in one hand, and holding my dad's battered and loved mass market in the other hand. I remember how I read the final words and closed the book slowly. How I got up to go sit in my dad's home office and stare into space in disbelief at what I'd just read. I remember how I looked at my dad and I said "I can see why it's your favorite. I think it's mine too."

I saw Dune Part 2 on opening night, in IMAX, with my dad. And to say it was a night to remember is an understatement. I can say with full confidence that seeing this film is sure to become a core memory.

The sheer power of this film is something to behold. I don't think there was a single moment in those 166 minutes that I wasn't entirely immersed in the film, my eyes were glued to that screen like never before.

There were moments during the movie where I was genuinely frightened, moments that had me on the edge of my seat. I know how this story goes, I know how it ends, I know who lives and who dies. And yet...

Paul Atreides is a scary man by the end of this story. The transformation he undergoes after drinking the Water of Life is unsettling, and Timothee did a fantastic job of portraying it. Paul's speeches about how he is The One- The Lisan Al-Gaib- are damning. You can see how much he believes now that he must be the messiah and how deeply the Fremen believe in him, but you can also see how dangerous he is. The power in his words is scary because I know how much damage the search for one person to save us all can cause. His final speech instills a sense of breath-stealing deep in the audience. It's frightening and disturbing because I know that this kind of religious zealotry is not being played up for the sake of theatrics; it is very, very real.

Jessica's religious indoctrination is scarily accurate to the indoctrination I've witnessed in my own life. The way she talks of "converting the non believers" reminds me a little too much of how I was taught to share the Word of God with those who didn't believe in Christ or God while I was in catholic school. And while her own indoctrination is terrifying to witness, what is worse is watching how she spreads her propaganda amongst the Fremen. By the end, they believe that Paul will save them; rather than being saved by their own people.

Despite knowing that Stilgar's faith is largely due to Bene Gesserit propaganda that speaks of a messiah, I still find him to be an admirable character. His unwavering and unshakeable faith mimics the faith of many religious people I know in real life. I've always envied that kind of faith, the kind that prevails regardless of hardship or pain or loss. I sometimes wish I could have that kind of faith, I wish I could believe in something that strongly. Stilgar is not shaken by anything Paul or Chani or any other Fremen say. He believes with his whole being that Paul is the Lisan Al-Gain, and that he will save them all.

"I don't care what you believe. I believe!"

And it's just such a well crafted movie. Shai-Hulud looks so good in this film (the sand worm riding scenes were breathtaking). The cinematography, the soundtrack, the acting; everything feels so intentional. I'm so grateful this film exists.

This movie will stick with me for a while, if not forever. It so faithfully portrays not only the story but the themes of Dune. This film was clearly made with love, care, and adoration for the source material. I couldn't be more grateful.

As the film came to a close, as Jessica's final words rang in my ears, as I watched Chani prepare to ride Shai-Hulud, I did not know what to do with myself. As the credits began to roll everyone around me stood up while I stayed seated. As I peeled myself out of my seat to leave, the music that played rang throughout the theater. I was breathing heavy, I turned to my dad, and we concluded that this was a truly wonderful film.

in conclusion, i can die happy knowing my favorite novel of all time has been so perfectly adapted.

[x0401x]

Hi, if you don't mind, can I ask from this ask game :

https://www.tumblr.com/theclearblue/761071267749265408/anime-asks-because-why-not?source=share

For no. 4, 6, 8, 13, 14, 15, 16, 18, 20, 23, 24, 28

Thanks if you want to answer whichever that you want.....

Ayyy, sure! Sorry for taking so long to reply to this!

4. Least favorite anime character: Kinoshita Kazuya

This one was hard. I usually have lots of characters I like and lots that I’m neutral about but none that I quite hate. One character that left me particularly grossed out, though, was this guy. I can’t say I hate him, but I’ve never been so instantly put off by a fictional character. The combination of being plain disgusting and stupid with having absolutely no redeeming qualities and nothing going on for him was particularly unsettling. It’s not even that he gave us nothing; he really only gave his worst.

6. Popular anime that you didn’t like: Violet Evergarden

Y’all know me. Y’all know where I’m coming from. 🫠

8. Anime character you’re the most like: Honestly, no idea. I’d like to know people’s opinions on this one.

13. Funnest anime you have watched: This one is kinda abstract. I have no idea how to measure the fun. My all-time favorite isn’t exactly what I’d call “fun” and I have too many that I consider fun animes.

14. Saddest anime you have ever watched: Midori Shoujo Tsubaki.

I know that this one aims to be a lot of things way above its intention to be melancholic, but it’s definitely the anime where I’ve felt worst about the protagonist. The ending is surrealistic yet too real at the same time. It’s probably the anime that had me going “damn, that’s sad as hell” the most.

15. Anime you never get sick of watching: Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi

I have quite a few anime that I’d rewatch anytime if I felt like it, but this is the only one that I feel like rewatching whenever I see anything related to it. I probably have answered this in every anime ask game I’ve played, but Sen to Chihiro is my all-time favorite anime and movie.

Another anime that I never get tired of rewatching is Gakkou no Kaidan. I used to rewatch it every year on Halloween as a personal tradition when I was a kid and I have a physical copy of all the books in the series. I only don’t rewatch it anymore because I hardly have time for binging nowadays, but if I could do it again? Damn right I would.

16. 10 best animes you have watched: That’s tough! I have a long list of favorites. Aside from Sen to Chihiro, in no particular order:

1. Heike Monogatari

2. Fullmetal Alchemist (I’m combining the first one with Brotherhood here because I love the whole franchise and I’ve always felt that they complete each other)

3. Mushishi

4. Card Captor Sakura

5. Inuyasha

6. Rurouni Kenshin (the first one)

7. Soul Eater

8. Nana

9. Yu Yu Hakusho

10. Monster

18. 10 worst anime you’ve watched (this one is also in no particular order and there’s actually way more than just 10 but here we go):

1. PUPA

2. Diabolik Lovers

3. Drammatical Murder

4. Kaze no Na wa Amnesia

5. Nora

6. Ghost in the Shell: SAC_2025

7. Berserk (2016)

8. Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete

9. Ro-Kyu-Bu!

10. Kamierabi GOD.app

20. Least favorite anime ships: Literally any inc*st and p*do ship.

23. Unpopular character you love: I don’t really have unpopular characters that I love, but there sure are characters whom I love yet a good chunk of the fandom detests.

24. Popular character you hate: Also don’t have any. I’m either neutral or love them. But then again, there are characters that the fandom is obsessed with yet make me feel next to nothing.

28. Most upsetting moment in anime and why: The entirety of Tsurune, lol. Because the novels (albeit not well-written) are leagues above it in content, depth, overall plot and character handling. It’s pretty much a spiritual experience once you realize what the author is trying to convey, which the studio not only didn’t understand but also tried to run from like the devil runs from the cross. Pretty sure the author also wasn’t too hyped about some things in the anime, as implied in one of her afterwords.

This was fun to do! Thank you!

[amyispxnk]

Chickenshit

Day 2 of my Halloweeny drabbles with Joel!

26/10: horror movie

Joel Miller x gn!reader

Word count: 895

Warnings: language, pet names (sweetheart, darlin')

Do not copy this work in any way, pls and ty

----------------------------------------------------------

Beep, beep, beep.

You opened the microwave door and took the bag of popcorn out, cursing quietly when the hot air grazed your hands.

You walked back into the living room to see Joel flicking through the TV channels to find a movie to watch. After setting the bowl on the small table in front of the couch, you sat beside him, tucking your feet beneath you and looking at him.

"So, what're we watching then?"

He turned back to face you before nodding his head towards the screen.

"Scream."

You raised your eyebrows at him with an unimpressed look on your face.

"Scream? We've all seen that like.. 20 times already. It's not even a horror film, just a whole lotta blood and death. Are you too chickenshit to watch anything that's actually scary? Hm, Joel? Too scared..?" You mocked in a playful tone. He glared at you, or tried to - he found it really hard to be truly annoyed at you - before handing you the remote.

"Fine, you pick somethin' scary. I bet ya 10 dollars you won't be able to sleep without me tonight you'll be so afraid."

"Challenge accepted." You replied, confident you'd be 10 dollars richer by the end of the night as you turned on The Ring.

-------

An hour later, you were petrified. You didn't want to look at the screen, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from it either, trying to catch the next jumpscare before it got you, failing miserably each time.

"Holy- Shit! Why are there so many jumpscares in this fuckin' film?!" You complained after what seemed like the ninth one in the past 20 minutes.

He just shrugged, smugness radiating from him as he watched you slowly get more and more freaked out, throwing more popcorn into his mouth. You reached for some more and pouted slightly when you realised he had finished the entire bowl.

"Joel.. did you seriously finish all the popcorn."

"'s not like you were eatin' any. Too scared shittin' your pants-"

"Go fill it up now." You cut him off as you handed him the bowl, eyes falling back to the TV, transfixed by the events playing out on-screen once again. He was about to tease you some more but decided against it, going to the kitchen and looking through the cabinets for the popcorn bag.

That was the last one.

"Sweetheart, 'm gonna go to the store real quick. Don't got any popcorn left." He called out from the hallway.

"Yeah, okay. Don't take forever." You responded as you heard the door close.

--------

15 minutes later, Joel still wasn't back and you heard something. A floorboard creaking. Probably nothing, the house is old anyways. The tap running. You needed to get it fixed, you'd tell Joel later. A crack, then a thud.

"Probably just a tree or something. Yeah. 's nothing." You quietly assured yourself, pulling the blanket tighter around your body, glancing around a bit before looking back to the screen. It was a quiet scene, nothing much was going on. Nothing much until-

The lights flickered in your house, again and again until they turned off completely.

"What the fuck.." You muttered under your breath, squinting your eyes to look through the darkness- the only source of light being the TV. When you looked back at it, the girl was fucking crawling through the TV and you nearly pissed your pants, jumping up and scrambling for the remote to immediately turn the film off.

Your shaky hands reached for your phone, pressing the button to call Joel, about to shout at him to hurry the fuck up because why was it taking so long for him to get some damn popcorn?!

Creeeeeeeaaaak.

You whipped your head around to the direction the noise came from before a pair of hands grasped your shoulders tightly.

You almost actually did piss your pants before the light turned on and you saw Joel's face staring back at you, shit-eating grin very evident on it. Grin which immediately disappeared when you accidentally smacked him across the face.

"Get the fuck off- Joel?" You stared at him, panting from the adrenaline coursing through your veins and watched as he broke out into laughter, doubling over at the sight of you gripping the remote and holding it in preparation to use it like a weapon, quivering with your eyes blown wide in fear.

"What. The fuck. Was that?!" You demanded, not amused like he was.

"That-" he began after a good thirty seconds of howling with laughter. "That was me being the king at scaring you, darlin'."

You threw the remote back onto the couch, before turning back to him.

"So that was all you? You- did you even get the popcorn?"

"I did not get the popcorn, but I don't think we'll be needin' any, considerin' you turned the film off."

You looked back to the TV screen, and yes you had turned it off, but you didn't want him to have the satisfaction. You were gonna finish the damn film, you weren't chickenshit.

"We don't need popcorn, but we're still finishing the film."

--------

He had to stay over that night because of how scared you were, jumping at every little noise that came from inside and outside your house.

Safe to say he didn't pull a stunt like that again.

----------------------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it <3 Comments, reblogs and hearts are always appreciated and requests are open! 💞

[king-midas-fortnite]

Journal Entry: 02

Relevant Reblog Threads: https://www.tumblr.com/kado-fortnite/757815879423639552/an-invitation-to-watch-bloodsport-from-a-king-it?source=share AND https://www.tumblr.com/king-midas-fortnite/758022626128035840/it-was-a-nice-night-decent-company-for-certain?source=share

I mentioned in my last entry that I was thinking of ways to make things even with Kado for stopping me from doing something I'd regret in hurting Valeria, without making it known I felt the need to in the first place. 

Well, fortunate for me, he posted about being bored the other night while I had been enjoying an older bottle from my cellar. In a move I don't think I'd have chosen entirely sober, I invited him to the Nitrodome for entertainment he might find more suitable than reality TV. 

Surprisingly, and unlike many decisions made under the influence, I don't regret it. 

I had a fine time. I hesitate to say "good". It was Kado after all. But at the very least, he can make decent conversation when we aren't at each other's throats. Not to mention, Valeria puts on a good show when she's under the dome. 

I'd brought a bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Pauillac. 1986, hardly the most vintage in my collection, but one I was looking forward to trying regardless, and met him outside. 

As I said in my invite to him, the plan was to climb the overhanging rafters for a better and more private view. I don't care for sitting amongst crowds. Especially not the kind who go to Nitrodome events. Anyway, the speed at which he climbed those rafters while I carefully made my way up was impressive if not entirely irritating. We were supposed to be discreet, and there he went swinging from pole to pole like some chimpanzee. 

At one point he'd asked if I needed a "hand." I could have killed him then. Feigned reaching for his hand and let the Touch do the rest, but oh well. Chances chances. 

Then he asked if I wanted to hang on his back while he went. The offer seemed genuine, but I will die before I risk anyone seeing me in some Vampire Romance Movie situation with Him. No, I could make it.

I did take some satisfaction in that when I finally did get to the top, he was hung upside down, looking a little...disheveled, from all his showing off. I asked if he was ready to take a bat nap. He didn't appreciate the joke, said he'd simply been having fun watching me. 

The show had begun after that. I realized I had forgot glasses once the bottle was opened, so we simply passed it back and forth. 

I've already mentioned Velaria putting on a good show, but I will reiterate, it was quite fun to watch. 

Between rounds of whatever the goal is down there (I don't pay much attention to rules, just the violence and expensive destruction), we chatted. Found common ground on some things; wine, art, theater. Found differing opinions on others; music, film, food.

One part I can not seem to let go of (and what I am having to have my third drink to even write down), was when he asked to see my hand. My fake one, that is. The one made to replace the one he stole. 

I didn't think he'd try anything at a place so public, so I held it out to him. He held it for a while, turning it over in his hands, tracing fingers over every weld and joint. It felt more intimate than I'd care to think about. 

He said it was beautiful. I thanked him, but couldn't help myself from asking if he was planning on taking that one too. 

He then got this smirk on his face and said, "I'd rather take the man attached to it." 

I'd snatched my hand back then, and decided I hadn't had nearly enough to drink for that sort of comment. I can only hope I didn't appear as surprised by it as I felt, but the Touch betrayed me as it often does and the damn bottle had changed to gold while I drank more from it. 

He'd laughed at me, of course. What I'm struggling with now is how I didn't hate the sound. I'm blaming it on the wine drank at the time and now. Moving on.

By the time we were heading back down, I was thoroughly drunk. He kept offering me help, staying irritatingly close as I went. I was in the middle of telling him I didn't need a "hand", and insulting him when I did lose my footing. 

He shouldn't have risked the exposure, but Kado had let his wings snap out for enough speed to catch me by the arm. For a man who's supposed to be keeping a secret, this was an extremely reckless action. I let him know as much after I regained my balance (queue the most sarcastic "you're welcome" I have ever heard). I have no idea if anyone saw, I suppose time will tell. 

We made it back down without further incident and accompanied each other further until our paths home split ways. Before we parted, I said something I wish I hadn't. Again, decisions made under the influence that I'd think better of otherwise. I thanked him. I thanked him for stopping me with Val, divulged to him how tired I am of hurting the people I care about... Stupid thing to do. I don't relish the idea of him knowing anything genuine about me, but I can't very well go back in time to correct that mistake. It was his time machine that blew up, after all. 

If anyone ever reads these, I think I'd kill them. Reminder: these are not "public" to other Tumblrverse characters. Okay to reblog, but please do not roleplay on journal entries!

[valhallaas]

Out To Get You

Chapter Two - October 26th

Masterlist

pairing: bob floyd x poppy!reader

summary: death was surrounding you. why were you the only one seeing it? it was all tied to you. when your friends started getting phone calls, and the sudden disappearances, it didn’t take you long to figure it out.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni) some themes may be upsetting, this is a slasher fic. there’s going to be gore. death. blood. violence. horror. (eventual) smut.

a/n: here it is! chapter two!!! i hope you like it!

The rain starts early Monday morning. Your throat tightens at the sight of the flashing cameras and news vans surrounding the entrance of the base. A bunch of reporters are standing around giving different news reports.

“North Island Naval Air Station was devastated last night when a Top Gun aviator was found brutally butchered. Authorities have yet to issue a statement but our sources tell us that no arrest has been made and the murderer is at large.”

Lisa’s home was still taped off. You didn’t know the details, and you weren’t sure that you wanted to. Yesterday had been rough. You spent the better half of the morning talking with the police. There wasn’t anything to offer them other than you heard screaming. It still echoed in your head. It keeps you up at night. You could’ve helped her had you known. But you didn’t, and it’s too late to think about things like that.

But coming to work to this? You’d completely forgotten about Jagger. He wasn’t the first guy to put his hands on you. You doubt he’d be the last. Did he deserve to die for it? No. Jake hadn’t gone into details yesterday when you called him, and Bob didn’t talk about it after the officer had left. He hadn’t given you a moment to truly process it all. Sweeping you out of your house and into a whirlwind weekend. You didn’t return home until late last night.

Fiddling with your keys, you stare out at the vans, the rain causing them to blur. You need to get out, head in. You’re sure it’ll be a madhouse. But you’re paralyzed. Your skin pricks, hair on the back of your neck sticking up. Your eyes leave the reporters as you look around. That damn feeling is back. Someone is watching you. It makes you want to scream. Your car door opening makes you jump. A sharp glare sent Jake’s way as he stands before you, rain dampening his hair.

“Can you believe this shit?”

Pushing him out of the way, you climb out of your car, ignoring the feeling that follows you. “Isn’t this internal affairs? Since he was in the military?”

“You know that the brass is investigating. But it’s major news, Poppy. The Hard Deck is just off base.”

“But it wasn’t at the Hard Deck?”

“No. He was found in some dumpsters between the hard deck and that diner Rooster likes to go to.”

“Jesus,” you mutter.

Your bag is your shield against the weather as you follow Jake into the hanger. Rooster and Phoenix are talking, eyes moving to the both of you when you walk in. Payback and Fanboy are over by the radio. You frown, eyes scanning the room. Bob normally beats you here, never one for running late. Your skin prickles again, but you can’t tell if it’s from your new paranoia or if it’s worry.

“Where’s Bobby?” You ask, not directing the question at anyone specific.

“Don’t know, kid. Haven’t seen him since the bar.”

Biting your lip at Rooster’s answer you turn to your best friend. “Jake, that picture you sent—”

“Are you worrying about me, Poppy?”

You jump at Bob’s sudden presence. “Please don’t do that.”

His lips tilt up. “You watchin’ those scary movies again?”

Heat dots your cheeks at the fact that he knows you so well. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

Jake snorts from the other side of you. ”Sure, Baby on Board.”

You shake your head. Bagman would get what’s coming to him one of these days, and you’d make sure you’re there to laugh at him. Work trugs on. It’s hard with so many people around. They finally got most of the vans to leave the entry. Maverick’s waiting for you when you land your super hornet. Gut sinking at the concern written on his face.

“I’ve heard you had a rough weekend.”

You shrug. “It wasn’t great.”

“Well, I’m sure this will be the cherry on top.” He sighs at your crestfallen face. “Come on, Cyclone is waiting for you.”

You follow him until you're outside Admiral Simpson’s office. The military police standing outside the door usher you in, you look back at Maverick who only nods at you in encouragement. Slowly you sink down into the seat offered to you. Can they hear your heart beating?

“Poppy?”

You glance to meet the concerned gaze of your superior. Clearly, he’s been trying to gain your attention for a while.

“Yes sir?”

“Are you alright?”

You pause, thinking about your answer. “No, sir. Not really.”

He nods. “We’ll make this quick then.”

It was, in fact, not quick. They talked in circles. Asking the same questions, only rewording them to try and confuse you. You aren’t sure why they had you in for questioning in the first place. Who the fuck ran their mouth? You aren’t a killer. In the given situation, you had been the victim. How did you know the victim? Did you see him after that night? Did what he did upset you? Where were you the night he died? It’s exhausting, and you’re ready to go home. Your time being questioned by the police after Lisa had died wasn’t even this strenuous. You’re damn near in tears when they finally let you go. You lean against the wall, your breath ragged.

“Do you really think she had anything to do with it?”

There’s a scoff, a chair scraping, probaby Cyclone standing to his feet. “No, I don’t.”

The sudden sound of your phone ringing next to your head startles you awake. How annoying it is that you’re so jumpy lately. Squinting, your eyes move to the nearest clock. Fuck, you were supposed to meet everyone at Maverick’s. Too late now.

You swipe to answer, assuming it’s Jake ready to chew your ass out for not showing up. “Look, Bagman, I’m sorry I did—”

“Hello, Poppy.”

“Um. Do I know you?”

“You tell me.”

You think, trying to place the voice. It sounds a little distorted. “I have no idea.”

“Scary night, isn't it? With the murders and all, it's like right out of a horror movie or something.”

“Alright, Mickey, giving yourself away now.”

“Do you like scary movies, Poppy?”

“What’s that thing you’re doing with your voice, Mick? Can’t tell if you're trying to be mysterious or if you’ve recently started smoking a pack a day.”

“What's your favorite scary movie?”

“Don't start. You know what it is.”

“And what’s that?”

“The Conjuring.”

It’s silent for a beat too long, you think he hung up on you. “The one with the doll?”

You huff. “No, that’s Annabelle. I’m talking about the one with the 5 girls. They’re house is haunted by that demon witch. You know, with the creepy tree.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug, walking around your couch and into the kitchen. “Guess because people are way scarier than ghosts are. It’s easier to watch make believe.”

“Any good slasher flicks?”

“Come on, as if.” You scoff.

“Why not?”

“Because,” you laugh, “they're all the same. It's always some stupid killer stalking some blonde girl — who can't act worth shit — who always runs up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. They're lame as fuck.”

You look at your phone this time when it gets quiet. Nope. He’s still there. A frown takes over your face when you realize it says unknown. Why did you answer an unknown caller?

“Are you alone in the house?”

“Mickey, you are the fucking worst, you know that?”

“ Maybe that's because I'm not Mickey.”

“No? Who are you then?”

“The question is not who am I. The question is where am I?”

“So where are you?” You don’t know if you're brave or if you’re stupid. You're eighty-two percent sure it's Fanboy on the phone. So without waiting for him to answer you walk back outside. You stand on your porch for a minute looking around. It’s twilight. The sun is almost gone. Enough shadows to hide in, but still, you’re able to see. You walk down the driveway, around your car. Nothing. “Look, Mickey or not, I don’t care for the game you’re playing. Call someone else next time, alright?”

You walk back inside, making sure the door is locked behind you. Feeling less brave, you walk around and make sure all the doors and windows are locked. Still. Maybe you should call Jake? Maybe Bob? Neither would really blame you. Your neighbor was just murdered after all. Might tease you about watching scary movies. But how do you explain the call? Why would Mickey call you from an unknown number? You catch the date. It’s nearing Halloween. Maybe it’s only a prank call? Your mind goes back to the masked figure in the park. People do weird shit around Halloween.

You’ve got a weird feeling. Scrolling through your contacts you hit Fanboy’s number and listen to it ring. You're surprised when he doesn’t answer right away. He’d answer right away if it was a joke, right? Right? The ringing stops, but you don’t hear anything. Just some rustling. Your grip tightens on the phone.

“Mickey?”

Lightly, so lightly you barely make it out. “Help me.”

“Mickey, this isn’t fucking funny.”

More rustling and faint groaning. The sounds come to a stop, the groaning turning into a gurgling. Oh my god. Oh my god. Panic sets in. You need to call the police, you need—someone picks up the phone.

“See you around, Poppy.”

[lordbettany]

Well, I was thinking "Damn Good Acting Scenes" but I will take the other options also! xD xD

OK, I want to keep this list short, and I don't want to include his well-known characters. Also, the clips I wish to include in this post don't exist on the internet separately, so I have to share them myself 🙃🙃 and bc Tumblr doesn't let me add more than one video to this post, I'll be adding links and forwarding you to the said clips.

Steeltown Murders (2023). This brief flashback scene almost gave me a heart attack when I first watched the show. The subtle change of expression, those enlarging eyes, and fading of that forced smile were all perfect! You don't need to see him shout or hit her on screen to know that that poor woman was scared stiff of him.

The Way (2024). As a cinephile, I think crying scenes are quite significant to measure an actor's ability. I usually find them either exaggerated or unrealistic. Aneurin had many scenes that required him to cry until now, and among them, I find this the most realistic and heartbreaking.

Ironclad (2011). I'm not a big fan of action movies and seldom watch fighting scenes with great interest. Typically, the protagonists swing their swords, emerge victorious, and say cool lines and go on. In this scene, Thomas Marshal does that exact thing. Even though the writers obviously wanted to make him an emotionally broken war veteran, who is a warning against romanticizing fighting and killing, they still turned him into a stereotypical crusader hero. And what he was supposed to represent is better understood from Guy's introspection after the battle. I don't really enjoy their lines but Aneurin's use of body language was excellent.

Citadel (2012). Another crying scene 😢 but this time a lot more subtle. Here, Tommy, just like Dan (The Way), is a father who faces an extraordinary situation which places his family into a grave danger. He looks very vulnerable, and the baby looking clueless and content in his arms draws a nice contrast. The way he holds on to his daughter clearly indicates that she is the source of what little strength he's got. We only see a single teardrop forming and falling as he speaks since he is too tired to do anything more. Watch the movie with your emotional support friends.

Barkskins (2020). Too poetic to describe. Excellent acting and writing.

[fictionkinfessions]

I had a dream about Madam Red last night, of all things.

With all the love in my heart, I don't think of her often 💀 My latest Grell shift was kicked off by Othello, so he's the freshest face in my mind when I think of Grell. Also I'm not even IN a Grell shift right now!!!! This came completely out of nowhere! But whatever. I dreamed about her.

I don't remember everything about the dream. I know it came off another one. I know we were in some room. I think it was like... A Black Butler Kinnie Meetup or something. There weren't many people there; I didn't recognize anybody either, like I wasn't sitting in a sea of characters or kinnies there was like A Dude. (MIGHT have been William, or I am retroactively imposing him on a man. Hard to say)

A little card came up a la silent movie or whatever, and it was a sex joke 🫢 And in my punctuating of such a clue (I don't know why it was a clue or why I had told people where I would be in this way) I sat on the table closest to Madam Red, legs swinging off the side mischievous style. The joke implied she was also a trans woman, which was very exciting and empowering to me. I remember people doing that OOOOOOOOHH thing people do when a sex joke happens LOL and for a moment it was whatever. It was chill!

Then I looked at her... And she was beautiful, but I also felt so disconnected. Like I didn't see her and get swarmed with emotions. My heart didn't jump. I didn't feel like a dog, tail wagging and excited. I can't say what emotion I felt because it felt completely neutral, but I started tearing up anyway.

I fought it so hard. I was like damn I don't wanna cry rhrn that's crazy. Get it together girl!!! So I looked away! I curled in on myself a little! I bit my lip! Whatever! How do you prevent the Eye Mist?

It wasn't enough. She hit me with that "Oh... Grell... Sweetheart, don't cry," and that was it. Full tears. I was like 😭 I'm sorryyyyyy Im not TRYING tooooo!!! And then she had the audacity to be like "I wanna see that smile <3" like DAMN GIRL I WOULD TOO BUT NOW! I'm groveling at ur feet! FULL crying like a hair away from sobbing if Im generous to myself. Flung on the ground at her feet, bowing and apologizing. Half for crying at all I think, but if that wasn't the whole reason idk why I was. I guess bc I kinda... Yk... 🪚 but idk I don't think ab that much, nor did I ever think I regretted it (sorry girlie I haven't watched source in a hot min so maybe that'd change if I did)

Anyway. Now I can't stop thinking ab her. Sorry for the long dump I'm just a little frazzled

Sending love to all the Madam Reds out there ig!

Xox, Grell Sutcliff of Black Butler fame

x

[blubbly-pizza]

I watched – Skinamarink – 2022

“Damn I should have read the tin that said ‘arthouse horror’ before watching arthouse horror.”

This is a movie I was particularly excited for; then I watched it. I think if you go in knowing it’s going to be a slow paced, occasional jump-scare, but still dread-infused movie; you’re prepared for that? Then you’ll have a better time. Anyhow, I mete out my thoughts under the ‘read more’ without spoilers. More of an “experience” movie anyhow.

I can say there are aspects of this movie I was fascinated with. The simultaneous film aberrations and more noticeable screen effect were an interesting add. In particular the other effect that isn’t a VHS or film effect. It’s like an overlay of transparent rainy puddle, but the longer it goes on you start noticing swirls. It’s fun because it renders the shadows and darkness as something more unknowable, more dream-like.

The shot choices are also neat. Every static shot is too close to the ceiling or floor. Mostly focused on either the light source or toys in the room.

All the audio feels like it’s underwater or from the other side of a wall.

I view these bits as positive by the way. They all add to the surreal and nightmarish feel to the movie. And shout outs to integrated subtitles! Even though there are a handful of lines that didn’t get the treatment.

Downsides? It’s long and too many (really loud) jump scares.

Again. 1 hour. 40 minutes. Cut an hour and rewrite around that maybe? Does “Brevity is the soul of wit” apply to movies? There is a short film by the same director with the same premise. “Heck” on YouTube. Heck I guess a lot of my length complaints can be evaporated with, “it’s an experimental art movie”.

I hate jump scares. They’re cheap. I hate this movie’s jump scares because they’re cheap, AND they didn’t need them. Every one that happened didn’t need a stinger. The movie is tense, the imagery is horrifying, YOU DIDN’T NEED TO HIT 0 DECIBELS!

#blubbly reviews #skinamarink #movie #horror #october 2024

[dragonflies-draw-flame]

10 fandoms/10 characters

Many thanks to @tomatette, @jaynesilver, and @fallingdeeperintothispit for tagging me 😁.

Star Wars (Sequels): Armitage Hux. I really do love Kylo too—Ren is such an interesting, dramatic character, and he's absolutely perfect for Hux, seriously. But Hux with his emotional unavailability, hard, overly-composed exterior, his passion/drive to the point of his own detriment, traumatic past...he's everything I could want in a character, because I am also all of these hard-to-love things (though thankfully minus the space fascism).

Star Wars (Prequels): Anakin Skywalker. Look, I know he's a bit whiny sometimes but damn if I don't love a murderous pretty boy on a fool's errand for the person he loves. Mystical space powers and dramatic sweeping outfits are just an added bonus.

Beauty and the Beast: the Beast. For the handful of people following my BatB Kylux fic, this is TOTALLY shocking, I know (and also you guys are amazing ❤️). I do love Belle—she's a book-loving introvert, so that's a given. But the Beast (notice I didn't say Prince Adam)...yeah, I did NOT know how to deal with my attraction to him when I was younger. Mercurial, cursed, awkwardly endearing, dark-haired, passionate, and desirously fluffy?! Wears dramatic capes, has an enchanted rose determining his future, and has the library of my dreams that he is willing to share?? What the fuck more could I want?!

LOTR trilogy: Aragorn. Do I really need to explain that to anyone?? (Also: sorry, Legolas...you were a VERY close second).

Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.: Jemma Simmons. Brilliant, adorable style, much more resilient than she looks. Her quote that goes "Past events...have shown me that I’m not good at improvisation. However, I excel at preparation" is not that great out of context here, unfortunately, but regardless, it was so validating to me. Me too, Jemma!!

Once Upon a Time: Killian Jones (Captain Hook). My husband loves this show, so we have watched it so many times. Hook is a seductive, charming bad boy who eventually really does try his best. And his pirate get-up? UGH, have mercy. (Also, wow, apparently I really, really have a thing for pretty, dark-haired, dangerous men who wear mostly black INCLUDING at least one garment that falls to at least knee length. Huh. That's...rather specific.)

Harry Potter: Hermione Granger. I related hard to a bookish girl who had a hard time making friends when I read these in grade school.

Howl's Moving Castle: Howl. I did not know how to process the extent to which I was attracted to him either, especially because he's not even human some of the time (which I liked, a lot). It was a revelation to find the world of online fanfic where I was very much not alone in those kind of thoughts!

Mean Girls: Janis Ian. Yeah, I know Janis does some shitty things in this movie, but she is unapologetic about who she is. I totally admired her boldness in high school, especially since I too dealt with the horror of rumors being spread about my sexuality (except the ones about me were true ahaha). And I always leaned much more Victorian goth than punk, but I nonetheless appreciated her style as well.

t.A.T.u.: Lena. I would be remiss to leave off this duo, even if they were a musical group, which is not one of my usual fandom sources. BUT they were the first pairing I actually read fanfic about online, way back when, and wrote a ton for them too (unpublished). For a 12-year-old who was struggling massively with...well, everything, but especially feeling incredibly alone and terrified of my sexuality, their music video/song "All the Things She Said" blew my mind. Unfortunately I never got my own chance to make out/run away with a pretty redhead in the rain, but still.

Tagging: I think I've seen this done by most people I follow already? But if you haven't done this and are reading it, please consider yourself tagged and do so, if you wish! I love these get-to-know-you things and would genuinely love to hear about you :).

[cipheramnesia]

I've always wanted to like horror. I always try to get into it? I've had friends all through life that love horror, especially movies. But i end up loving the time i spend watching it with friends more than I've ever enjoyed the content itself. And like i feel like I'm somehow failing to see it the way large parts of the population like yourself do? But i don't know how to enjoy the medium?

The hurtles I've identified so far are that when there's ableism involved i tend to check out fully. That's been a dead end. And when there's painfully illogical choices by the main characters (the ones that the audience are encouraged to connect with). I get it's a useful tool for plot and moving the story along, but any emotional connection that was built there is like nullified? Idk. Not sure how to see what other people see cuz it looks like fun for y'all

Got any advice?

First I'd say - maybe horror just isn't your thing? I love it, I don't expect everyone to love. I barely expect anyone that likes horror to like anything at all similar to what I like. It's a damn slog for me to find new horror I enjoy, even among the horror fandom, because so many of them want it all to be Insidious or Saw or whatever - which is fine but not interesting to me.

Ableism is a deep dive I need to spend time on, but short answer is - I haven't got a good answer here other than maybe steer clear of the "slasher" sub-genre where it seems most rampant.

I think the main item I want to dig into is whether or not horror in general is uniquely poor with ableism, or is it consistent with other media and singled out for other reasons. I have a suspicion that it's the latter, purely on the basis that it's common in generalizations like "horror has an ableism problem" where the reality is "society at large has an ableism problem" that the problem of the former is a reflection of the latter, rather than innate to the former.

But I don't know, Jason is a horror icon and earliest versions ain't too pretty from that perspective. Hard to equate the latter versions with ableism on accounta he is essentially a supernatural entity after a certain point and whatever, you get the idea. It's all complicated and takes time to unravel. However, all that to the side, it may help to consider if those movies in some way reflect something uniquely bad, or if it's instead more upsetting due to horror characters generally existing in upsetting or disturbing situations. Both can be true on a case by case basis - like the infamous "black guy dies first" problem, which STILL HAPPENS somehow even though it's a problem so widely known that it's cliche even as satire. I have some thoughts about that I'll write up sometime as well.

I'm thinking a way to approach it may be via Franklin, the wheelchair using character of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, who I believe is meant to illustrate the poor way disability is treated, confronting the audience with their own biases. That's a whole other long essay that needs a good deal more work. But I notice it, oh boy do I, especially in the beloved "80s movies," yikes. I enjoy much about them, but there was some... stuff.

Now, characters making stupid decisions I mean... that's just movies. That is literally all movies, characters make stupid decisions. I can't say that makes it better, but I can promise you the average bad character decision per horror, science fiction, Disney(tm), drama, romance, etc etc movie is going to average the same. On the other hand, if this happens in almost all the movies your friends watch, they might just have bad taste in horror.

The takeaway here is getting into horror is something you're probably gonna have to work at if you really want to make it happen. Check out reviews, trusted sources, see if you can find some novels or shows or movies that handle those specific issues well. You may find some trusted artists you can go to more consistently but it's probably going to require some screening. And then also - again - if you don't like horror, that's not a failing or bad or anything to stress over. Some people just don't like certain stuff. No big, live and learn, other fish in the sea, different strokes, all that jazz.

[rosylights]

Unexpected

synopsis: Scarlett attends a party which turns entirely opposite to what she expected, however, a party that does not match her vibe is not the only unexpected thing that happens to her.. author's note: the entire plot is a first-person pov of Scarlett; the characters are non-fictional, i.e., they do not represent a face of a movie/anime/series/show. content warning: ꒰Vince x Scarlett꒱, series contains smut word count: 1.6k

I have always been a person who loves to get drunk and dance the night away when it comes to parties. My friends, my friends’ friends and even their friends are well aware that if someone hosts a party, Scarlett Aston would be holding the champagne bottle.

To my utter disappointment, the party that I agreed to join neither had any champagne bottle nor any vibes.

“Scar!” As I was done setting up the giant table overpowered by the weight of tacos and nachos, Emily, the party host, called me out from the tent.

Suppressing a groan and pasting a smile, I approached her bright squealing figure.

She held my arm, her voice higher than an octave. “Thank you thank you thank you! I didn’t get to say this earlier, but I never expected you to come to my party.”

Neither did I.

“But because of you,” Emily’s friend and co-host, Jackson adjusted his glass and squinted his eyes at his tablet, “Almost 250 people booked their free pass for our ‘Get-To-Know-Each-Other with Tacos-Nachos-On-The-Table Party’!”

I blinked, a slow awkward chuckle making its way as I scratched my neck. “The name of the party is sure better than it was earlier. I didn’t know we had this feature on the Fiesta app.”

People say don’t judge a book by its cover. I said, 'fuck what people say’, judged this book by its cover and took my entire caravan to the middle of the forest where, somehow, an amusement park stands tall with less than 50 customers gracing its rides on a daily basis.

The owner better thank me for increasing his sale.

“I know right!” Emily giggled, “I told Jackson, ‘Champagne and Tequila’ is too boring, considering it's a no-heavy-alcohol party. Also, it’s not a feature available to everyone.”

My brows furrowed as she waved her hand to whisper in my ear. “My uncle is the co-owner of the Fiesta app.”

My eyes shut, as if holding back the urge to throw that damn table of tacos and nachos upside down and run away from here.

Fiesta is a popular application that lets you throw parties and invite a huge crowd. And the fact that this girl’s uncle holds the rights to that application that was my only source of fun, something in me screams to say. ‘Emily. You have potential. Don’t waste it.’ and then, for the nth time, flip that goddamn table I took 1 hour to set and run away.

“Hey,” before either of us could continue, Jackson pointed at the grand iron gate of the park. “I think it’s time.”

I looked at my watch. It was 4 in the evening.

“They are half an hour earlier,” I gaped at the crowd. A huge crowd.

I was mentally ready to get thrown over by this huge crowd.

“Alright,” I deadpanned, “maybe I was exaggerating when I said that this location is in the middle of nowhere, but, I know for sure this is going to be the shittiest party you guys will ever be in.”

My friends, along with their friends and them along with their friends, laughed in unison.

“Look, I’m not shitting on this party,” I turned my chair around and cradled it, resting my arms over its head as every pair of eyes were fixed on me, “But this kinda party isn’t my vibe. Like ‘get-to-know-each-other’? No, fuck, I’m fine without knowing anyone.”

“Says the girl who knows the entire town.” Vera, one of my close friends, rolled her eyes. I scoffed when someone said, “Town is an understatement.”

“Bub, it’s fine. You have us. You have so many people. It won’t be as boring as you assume it to be.” Dynna handed me the glass of mojito. 

“Look at Emily’s face, she’s so happy that so many people joined! Plus, getting to know each other isn’t a bad idea.” Tom sipped on his Coca-Cola.

“It is definitely not a bad idea.” Maria choked on her drink, but she did not seem to mind at all for her eyes were fixated somewhere, gawking at someone. “Who the holy-fucking-fuck is he?”

We all looked at the person she was staring at. A tall black-haired guy, a pair of black jeans, a loose T-shirt and a jacket thrown messily over his shoulder.

“Oh Scar, you really attracted some hot meat,” Bee drooled, “This party should be renamed as ‘get-to-know-each-other-and-fuck.’”

“Absolutely, you can go and fuck on the merry-go-round or in the bushes ‘cause unfortunately there are no rooms here,” I tossed my finished glass into the bin kept nearby and groaned lazily. “I am so fucking bored.”

Tayler, one of the guy friends of Vera, gave me his hand. But before he could say something, my frown deepened at the sudden bass and the beginning of a Spanish song.

The man standing in front of me grinned widely, “Scarlett. Wanna dance?”

A white tank top and beige cargo. I shrugged and got off the chair. Better than rotting in boredom.

He held my hand and pulled me to where the rest of the crowd was. If I admit, there were at least a hundred people whom I had never met.

As we made it to the centre, many unknown faces waved at me, winked at me, or whispered a “Shall I be next?” in my ear.

A smile formed on my lips. A little vibey now.

Tayler began, and with his very first step, it was pretty evident he knew nothing about dance. Not wanting to break the boy’s enthusiasm, I continued, my each step precise and perfect.

Yes, that’s how I do it.

As the tempo increased, partners changed. 

A solid arm sneaked around my waist, holding me close as I looked at the face. I burst into laughter, it was Tom.

“Am I better than that man, senorita?” He wiggled his eyebrows and I nodded with a grin.

“Oh fuck you are!” 

But before he could take me for a spin, partners changed again.

“Scarlett!” The tight hold on me had softened; and became more gentle. I looked at the glowing face, and my lips turned into a soft smile.

“Hi, Emily.” 

She giggled as I took her for a spin.

“It was a pleasure serving you, my lady.” She looked around, aware that the partners are going to change soon. It looked like she wanted to say more, but bit her tongue.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I kissed the back of her hand as the circle kept moving with the beat. 

Partners changed again. 

No contact. No touch. My palm landed on the broad shoulder, and I looked up in confusion.

It was the guy who Maria pointed at. The one with black jeans. My scowl deepened when he moved with my steps effortlessly, but his arm hung in the air, just an inch away from my waist.

It kinda pissed me off.

“Being respectful?” A smirk took over my face at his features. With my right hand, I held his palm that was right behind it and pulled it tightly. He was tall. His bare arm now snaked perfectly around me.

He simply looked at me, my breath hitching when he pulled me closer. “Is this how you want it?”

Okay.

I gulped and involuntarily averted my gaze. Did he just make me nervous?

“Hi.” His hard features broke into a smile, and my eyes refused to look away this time. “Vince.”

Maybe I was lost staring at him because I was silent for a whole two minutes.

“Scarlett. Hi.” I cleared my throat and flashed a smile in response. “Welcome to the party world, lil’ boy.” I gave his chest a light push with a head-tilt, the smile still lingering on my lips as the song stopped.

Turning around, I saw my friends gawking at me. Before I could scream at what just happened right now, a guy blocked my way.

“Hi, uh, Scarlett, you don’t know me but, can I get your num-”

“She’s already occupied.” Tom’s voice echoed in my ear as he threw his arm around me and dragged me out of there.

I sighed, “Can you speak a little softer next time?”

“Like this, my lady?” He whispered on my neck and I smacked his head with a glare.

He laughed and slumped over the chair. “Chill, mama.”

I flipped him off while taking my spot, cradling the chair again.

“That was one hell of a dance,” Bee muttered, her head hung low.

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“That guy,” She sniffled, and I straightened up. 

“What did he do?” I dragged my chair near her and rubbed her back gently.

She looked at me with teary eyes. “He joined the dance in the last round, and I didn’t get a chance with him.”

A huge groan in unison. 

“It’s okay baby girl,” I clicked my tongue and pointed at the drinks table. “You’ll find hotter guys than him.”

“But Vince is the hottest guy around, Scarlett! No one’s hotter than him!”

I physically cringed, gagged and rolled my eyes. She was talking like a high-schooler who had her first crush.

“Oh please,” I scoffed, getting off my chair and turning around to bring some more drinks, “He is an A.”

“A is good, though. Especially when it comes to you.” Tom called out, and I faced them, walking backwards with a grin. 

There were still 2 steps away, but I decided to shout it out for them. “A stands for average!-”

“Fuck,” I cursed, feeling the ice-cold liquid trailing down my checkered shirt’s sleeve.

Vera’s eyes widened and she gave me ‘the look’.

I don’t know what’s ‘the look’ either.

Bee hissed. “Pineapple!”

The feeling of the drink creeping down my arm was gross enough for me not to pay attention to what they were saying. “Not pineapple, dumbass. Average!”

I turned around, wondering where the apology for spoiling my clothes was. As I was about to look at the culprit, the culprit’s voice thumped in my chest.

“Average?”